


City of Chains

by SorchaCahill



Series: Kirkwall Nights [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age II
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Dealing with assholes, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hawke swears a lot, Mystery, NSFW, PTSD, Period Typical Violence, Sexual Content, Vaginal Sex, actually everyone swears a lot, alcohol use, depictions of war, noire detective AU, occasional shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-03-01 19:43:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 116,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2785424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorchaCahill/pseuds/SorchaCahill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirkwall. City of Chains. It has been called many things over the years but City of Chains was the most appropriate. Freedom was a happy illusion in Kirkwall. In one way or another everyone was in chains.</p><p>Éowyn Hawke runs a private detective agency in Lowtown. Money's been tight and she's praying for one big case to pull her out of debt. That case comes late one night when Sebastian Vael knocks on her door asking for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kirkwall. City of Chains. It has been called many things over the years but City of Chains was the most appropriate. Freedom is a happy illusion in Kirkwall. In one way or another everyone was in chains.

None knew this better than Éowyn Hawke. She had come to this city four years ago, looking for a new start for both her and her family and for a while she thought she had found it. She and her brother Carver had found work, good work, with Red Iron Security but it wasn't long before Éowyn’s feet started getting itchy. Meeran had been a decent boss but he’d been narrow in his thinking, only wanting that fat payday and not caring much for who they worked for.

Éowyn took a sip of whiskey as she stared out over the city through the rain soaked glass. It almost looked pretty at night, the dark covering up the ugliness that the city held. Lights twinkled from windows, almost looking like stars poking out of the darkness. Éowyn snorted, taking another drink. It wasn't like her to wax poetic, she must have drank more than she thought. Glancing over at the whiskey bottle she decided she was only quarter drunk.

It was late, near midnight but sleep was the farthest thing from her mind. Going to sleep meant she had to go home where she was the only one left. Her mother had left not too long after Carver was gone, managing to get her inheritance out of the tangled mire her brother Gamlen had left it in and had moved into the Amell manor in Hightown.

To be completely honest, it had been a huge relief when Leandra left. They had never gotten along well and that strained relationship had only gotten worse after Bethany had died. Bethany had been the light in their family, the one that had bound them all together. Without that light…

Éowyn shook her head, taking another sip. It wasn't often she indulged in wallowing in the past. It didn’t serve any purpose except make her bitter about the things she couldn’t change.

Red lights flashed several blocks down, the squad car zipping through the wet, narrow streets, too far away to hear the sirens. Well, she thought, looked like someone was having fun tonight.

She’d had the option of joining the guard after she left Meeran’s employ. Aveline had offered her a position with the guard but she couldn’t deal with all the rules. And that’s what the guard was really, a bunch of rules and regulations that, in the end to her way of thinking, got in the way of getting results. No, it was better to go her own way. Éowyn smiled, thinking back. She couldn’t help but think that Aveline had been secretly relieved that she had turned her down.

Carver had laughed uproariously at Aveline’s offer, to the point where he near pissed himself after snorting beer out of his nose. Éowyn had almost laid him out on the floor of The Hanged Man for that before joining him in laughter, because the idea was ridiculous. Between the two of them they had broken enough laws that they should be locked up in the Gallows. It was through a combination of canniness and sheer dumb luck that they hadn't spent more than a night there. After several more glasses of beer they had come up with the even more ridiculous idea of starting their own private detective agency.

It was mad, completely so, but they had done it and managed to pull themselves up out of the slums and into Lowtown. It was more of a sidestep actually but at least there were less rats, of the four-legged kind anyway.

They had been at it for five months, steadily growing their reputation, before they actually made a profit. Using the contacts they had made during their time with Red Iron and the occasional tip from Aveline and actually made something. Became a name those in Lowtown could trust. Who knew that two refugees from Fereldan could pull themselves out of the dirt in a city that tended to crush any who dared to change their stars?

Together they gave the people of Lowtown someone they could turn to when they needed help, help that the guard wasn't able to give them. Three years they spent growing the business and it had all gone south with one job. One fucking job. Now Carver was gone and she was all that was left.

Éowyn tossed back the rest of her drink, setting the glass on her desk. Papers cluttered the surface, some letters from people asking for help, some from creditors demanding payment.

She needed one case, just one good case, and she could get back on top again. The small stuff was helping her get by, but she needed more than to just get by.

“Dammit Carver,” she muttered, reaching for the bottle again. As her hand wrapped around the neck, lightning flashed and briefly illuminated the room. Squinting against the sudden light she stepped back and fell into her chair. Leaning her head back against the rest she closed her eyes, already feeling the pleasant buzz she had been building starting to seep away.

One case. Just one.

Éowyn didn’t know how long she sat there with her eyes closed, had actually thought she had tipped off to sleep when there was a knock on the door. Her eyes flashed open as she carefully sat up, thumbing back the strap that held her gun in place. This was Lowtown after all and one didn’t usually get company in the middle of the night. Not company one wanted anyway.

Easing herself out of the chair, she silently stepped around the desk. She could see the knocker’s silhouette through the clouded glass of the door and reminded herself for the hundredth time that once she got some money she was going to replace the thing with something more secure. It wouldn't take much to break the glass and gain entry and she actually liked what few possessions she had.

Another knock came, louder this time. Éowyn pulled her gun from the holster, holding it at her side. Perhaps the person on the other side meant no harm but she had lived long enough in Kirkwall to know not to take any chances.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late, but I need to speak with Detective Hawke.”

Éowyn blinked at the Starkhaven accent bleeding through the door. Well, that was new.

Still holding the gun at her side, Éowyn approached the door.  Sliding the bolt open, she cracked open the door. She found herself looking at a dove-gray suit, a white shirt underneath that was so crisp it looked as if it had just come from the cleaners. Slowly her eyes traveled upward, tracing the shirt up until she saw the suit’s face and a pair of startling blue eyes staring back at her.

“I apologize again for the lateness of the hour, but I must speak with Detective Hawke. It is of the utmost importance. Is he in?”

Éowyn snorted, she couldn’t help it. Typical. She and Carver had jointly decided to name the agency Hawke Detective Agency but now she was rethinking it. Having it be so generic led to situations like this.

“No, I’m afraid that _he_ isn't. What do you want?”

The man’s blue eyes widened, perhaps not accustomed to being addressed so rudely. What did he expect? He was in Lowtown after all.

“I apologize, madame, I should have introduced myself. My name is Sebastian Vael and I need Detective Hawke’s help in finding out who killed my family.”

“Vael, the name does sound familiar, and that’s quite a tall order you're asking of me. Come on in and tell me your tale of woe and I’ll see if I can help you.”

Éowyn opened the door further to let him in. He hesitated at the threshold, as if realizing that he was missing something important. Éowyn tried, and failed, to hold back a smirk as she holstered her gun. She wanted to laugh at the look on Vael’s face when he saw the weapon.

“You’re in Lowtown, sweetheart. A girl’s gotta have some protection, especially when there's a caller in the dead of night. Take a seat.” Éowyn closed the door before walking back around to her side of the desk. Vael stood before her, snatching his hat off his head as if he suddenly realized he was in the presence of a lady.

Éowyn sat down in her chair and waited. Vael continued to stand there, apparently at a loss for words. A full minute passed by and he still hadn’t taken the seat she had offered and was instead looking about the room, obviously wondering where _Mr_ Hawke was.

“Mr. Vael, it’s very late. You said you needed my help finding who killed your family.” Éowyn propped her feet up on her desk, lacing her fingers over her stomach and waited, not even bothering to hide the smile now.

Vael turned around and simply stared and Éowyn felt her grin grow wider. She half expected him to turn tail and storm out of her office. There were men who just couldn’t conceive that a woman could do detective work and he had the look of one.

Surprising her, he instead took the chair in front of her desk, carefully plucking out the pleats in his trousers before resting his hat on his knee. Éowyn forced herself not to snort. He would be fastidious.

“You’re Detective Hawke?”

“The one and only.” Her grin grew wider but her eyes remained flat, taking in every nuance of the man sitting before her. Damn, but he was gorgeous. Éowyn mentally slapped herself, knowing that was a road she never wanted to go down. The man before her was from a different world. It was curious though as to why he would lower himself to come to a PI whose office was located in Lowtown. Surely he could afford someone who had a nicer address.

"So what brings you down here among the penniless and the lost, Mr. Vael? Did they run out of high-priced PIs in Hightown?"

Éowyn watched, fascinated, as the man flushed red. She couldn't decide if he was offended by her brash manner or the fact that he was lowering himself to a PI in Lowtown, and a woman at that. It was small of her, but she couldn't help but take some pleasure in needling him about it. Well, if he didn’t like her manners, or lack of them, he knew where the door was and could make use of it.

"I wanted the best."

Éowyn arched an eyebrow at that. He wanted the best? If that was true shouldn't he know who he was hiring?

As if reading the look on her face, Vael continued, "I was told that the Hawke agency was the best, even if they were a bit unconventional." He looked her square in the eye. "I need to find the people who murdered my family."

All humor fled from her at the look on his face. This was a man in pain and it haunted his entire being. A part of her softened as she dropped her feet to the floor and leaned forward. She recognized that look. It was the same look she saw in the mirror every morning before she put her mask on.

"Tell me what happened."

"Three years ago, a group ran by a man named Flint stormed my family's estate killing my parents and both of my brothers. No one was spared."

"Flint. You're talking about Jonas Flint."

"You know him." It wasn't so much of a question as a statement.

"Not well, even less so after he and his lackeys were all killed about three years ago. Was that your doing?"

Éowyn watched him carefully. She did know who he was after all. Sebastian Vael, youngest son of the Vael family. There had been a falling out several years ago that she had never really been able to dig up and to be honest, hadn’t really cared to. About all she knew was that he was cast out, not quite disowned but not welcome at family gatherings either. Looking at the man before her she couldn’t quite see what the fuss was all about. To look at him he had a too large a stick stuck up his ass to ever get into any real trouble.

“No, that happy duty was someone else’s doing.”

“Ah, yes, I remember now. Jonas and his boys picked a fight they couldn’t win. I have a friend who spent weeks cleaning up that mess. And it was quite messy.” The Carta’s doing, she was sure, as was Aveline but there wasn't enough proof to make an arrest. “I have to ask. If they were targeting your family, why aren't you dead?"

"I was here in Kirkwall at the time, and," he paused, taking a breath. "Not really considered a threat."

"Not considered a threat? Care to explain that? If there's a family fortune to be inherited, you'd be the one to get it, being the last living member."

"I'm not the last living member, just the only one with a direct line of descent. I have a few cousins who would, and have, benefited."

"Are they suspects?"

"The guard in Starkhaven looked in to it but were convinced that Goran had nothing to do with my family's murder, even though he took over as CEO of Vael Consolidated. They decided that it was simply a tragic event and not a plot to take over my family's business."

"Did they now. Hmm," Éowyn paused, tapping her pen on the desk. "Your family was pretty prominent in Starkhaven I take it."

"Yes, Vael Consolidated is one of the biggest employers in Starkhaven. We're also benefactors to many charities. I just don't understand why someone would attack my family."

"Money's a big motivator, Mr. Vael. People are killed for the change in their pockets and if you're family's loaded, you make for a rich target." She leveled her gaze at him. "Any chance that the guard in Starkhaven were bribed to not look too deep into your family's deaths?"  
  


Vael looked taken aback by the suggestion, like it had never occurred to him.

"I suppose it's possible," he said slowly. "But-."

"Money and power speak loudly, Mr. Vael. Those who don't have it want it, and those who have it tend to want more."

"Greed is the biggest sin in the eyes of the Maker."

Ah crap, she thought. A religious type. Perfect.

Silence fell between them. Éowyn took the opportunity to study him closer as he lost himself in thought. There's guilt there, she thought. Not sure for what, but it's there.

"So, if you know that Flint Company killed your family, why come to me now?” she finally asked.

“Because I just discovered that someone else wanted them dead and used Flint and his men as the weapon. I mean to find out who this person is and bring them to justice.”

"And how did you come by this information?"

Silently, Vael removed an envelope from his suit jacket pocket and tossed it onto the desk. Éowyn picked it up and pulled out the folded sheet of paper within. Unfolding it, she saw plain text stretched across the page, just a single sentence: Flint Company killed your family but someone else pulled the trigger. "This came to me today. I don't know who sent it."

"You're hiring me based on this? An anonymous note?" Éowyn couldn't hide the incredulity in her voice. Only someone truly desperate or someone incredibly gullible would buy into this.

"I know it seems like I'm grasping at straws here, Miss Hawke, but if there's even the slightest chance that this is true, I can't not look into it."

“Why not go to the guard?”

Vael’s jaw tightened, anger flushing his face. Ah, she thought, so there was a temper underneath that cool facade after all.

“I don't trust them to get my family justice. If it's true they were bought off then I definitely need someone else looking into this. I need someone who can step around the law and get the job done,” he paused, staring straight at her. “My family deserves justice.”

“Well, Mr. Vael, if you want someone with loose scruples and a blatant disregard for the rules, I’m your girl. Despite my humble surroundings though, I don’t come cheap.” Éowyn kept herself still. She considered herself a pretty damned good liar and bullshitter. Part of the reason why she was falling back into debt was because many of her clients couldn’t pay much, and she didn’t ask them for what she would normally, but Sebastian Vael had the look of a man who could afford to pay.

Vael paused slightly before reaching into his jacket and pulling out a checkbook. He took less than a minute to scribble something on the paper before tearing it out of the book and setting in on the desk, his long, tanned fingers pushing it across the wood.

Éowyn reached out, her fingers lightly brushing against his as she took the check. That brief contact burned her skin but she kept her eyes flat as she took the check from him. Settle down, she told herself, willing her hormones in check.

She glanced down at the check and it took everything she had to keep her jaw from dropping. He couldn’t be serious.

“One thousand up front. You get another four if and when you find out who had my family murdered.”

Éowyn felt the gears in her head turn. Five large if she completed the job. The man must be truly desperate.Or bent on vengeance. Time would tell which it was.

"You've got yourself a PI, Mr. Vael. I'll need all the information you have regarding the murders, and I mean everything. Now's not the time to get squeamish.”

“You will have all the information I have at your disposal.”

Éowyn swallowed a snort. She highly doubted it. These rich types tended to keep the dirtiest of their laundry locked away; she was pretty certain that Vael fell into that camp.

“Do I need to worry about that?” he asked, gesturing to the half empty whiskey bottle. Éowyn pursed her lips in annoyance.

“Don’t you worry, Mr. Vael, I can not only hold my liquor but when I’m on a job I give it, the job that is, my full attention. Maker knows I understand the value of a clear head when on a case.”

Vael leveled his gaze on her, betraying nothing on his face except for a level of scrutiny that Éowyn didn’t care for.

“I expect daily updates.”

“Of course you do, but that's probably not going to happen. No sense in calling you everyday if I have no information to give; doing that slows me down. It will take me a day or so to get up to speed. It’s been three years since your family was murdered, the trail’s cold, but if something's there to be found, I’ll find it.”

Vael stood, picking up his hat. “I’ll bring by the information tomorrow, at a more decent hour, Miss Hawke.”

“It’s Hawke, just Hawke. And you can bring it sometime in the afternoon. I should be around. If not just slide it under the door.” Standing up herself, she rounded the desk and stuck her hand out. She waited, her hand frozen in midair until he clasped his hand around hers. She had expected them to be smooth as most rich men’s hands were, but there were calluses there that betrayed… something.

“You leave the snooping and thinking to me, Mr. Vael, and I’ll let you know what I find. You breathing down my neck will just slow me down," she said, sharper than she intended. The touch of his skin on hers unsettled her and she wasn't easily unsettled.

His fingers tightened slightly around hers before he released them and put his hat back on. Well, Éowyn thought, thinking I’m not such a lady now, are we?

“Tomorrow then,” he said before walking to the door. As he opened it, he paused, turning back to her. His blue eyes blazed. “Miss Hawke, my family meant, means, a great deal to me. It is my duty to find out who wanted them dead and it’s not an easy thing to give you that duty.”

Before she could respond he was out the door and gone. Éowyn stared at the closed door for a minute before retaking her seat. She glared at the whiskey bottle, stamping down on the need to pour a glass. No, she needed a clear head. She knew her strengths and wading into the world of the rich and bored wasn't one of them. Fortunately she knew a couple of people who could help her with that and had the favors to call in to get the leads she needed, and if the favors didn’t work she now had some cash to grease palms.

Well, she had asked for a big case. They didn't get any bigger than this. Money, intrigue, power. All promised trouble. Good thing she was a girl who liked trouble.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, after several cups of coffee and a couple of aspirin, Éowyn strolled into Varric Tethras's office; if a hovel that had a slit for a window and stunk of burnt coffee and cigarettes could be called an office. His made hers seem positively posh in comparison.

Leaning against the door frame she observed her friend, smiling as he pounded furiously on his typewriter with two fingers. One of these days he was going to break the damned thing and would then bitch about having to get a replacement. Varric loved a good story but technology tried to thwart him at every turn. She had suggested once that maybe if he didn't abuse his equipment that it'd last longer. That comment had gotten her a glare that could have melted lead and nearly got her kicked out of his office.

She watched, greatly amused, as he swore at the typewriter when the tape got tangled up in the keys, marking the paper with huge black smudges.

"Maybe it's time to put that thing to rest, Varric. That thing has obviously reached it's expiration date."

"I'm not going to let this bastard win. I get to decide when to retire it, not him."

"Him? It's an inanimate object, Varric. They tend not to have agendas, evil or otherwise."

"So you say."

"If you hate the thing so much why don't you use Bianca?"

"Bianca's special. She has discerning taste and knows a good story when she sees it."

Éowyn rolled her eyes. Just about everything and everyone around him got a nickname, typewriters included. How she managed to escape his nickname rampage was beyond her but she wasn't going to question it. Even Carver had gotten one, much to his chagrin, but she was just Hawke.

"To what do I owe this dubious honor of your presence this early in the morning. Come to steal some of my shitty coffee?"

"I've already had my shitty coffee intake for the morning, so I'm good for now. I need information on a client."

Varric finally looked up from the typewriter, disentangling his fingers from the ribbon. "You're coming to me for information? Shouldn't that be the other way around?"

"Oh, come off it Varric. Everyone knows you know everyone and you've got every other kid here in Lowtown spying for you. I know who to come to for information."

"And you use those same kids as I do. No you're here for something else."

"I've got a case."

"Congratulations.  Care to expand on that nugget."

"The client's a bit, different, than my normal clientele."

"Do tell."

Éowyn looked over her shoulder at the barely controlled chaos of the newsroom. A thin haze of cigarette smoke hung in the air, the clacking of typewriters only barely drowned out by reporters talking on the phone. She honestly didn't know how Varric could stand all the noise but he seemed to thrive on it.

Closing the door, she ignored Varric's raised eyebrow as she sat down.

"Is this something that I should be opening a whiskey bottle for?"

"No, not as yet anyway. Do you remember those murders up in Starkhaven about three years ago?"

"You're going to have to be more specific than that Hawke. A lot of people get killed, even in Starkhaven."

"These you wouldn't forget. The Vael family. Parents and two of their sons killed during a home invasion."

"Oh, _those_ murders. Yeah, I remember them," Varric paused. "Shit Hawke, what have you gotten yourself into? Those were solved. Flint's gang was found responsible. Why open up that hornet's nest?"

"Flint's men did the killing but they didn't pull the trigger, so to speak."

"Who's your client, Hawke?"

"The surviving son, Sebastian Vael."

"You're shitting me. That self-righteous bastard has finally pulled his head out of the Chantry's ass? Huh."

"I take it you know him."

"More than I'd like to. You don't want to get messed up in this Hawke, trust me."

"He's paying, and well, I can't turn that down."

"No, I suppose not." Varric leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to ward off a headache. "You know, I was having a pretty good day before you walked in here."

"That's me, bringer of joy and happiness," she paused. "So are you going to tell me about the Vael family or not. I know you know about them. You know everything."

"Flattery will get you everywhere with me." He sighed. "The Vaels are, were, one of the most prominent families in Starkhaven. They even have a couple of titles stowed away, which would have passed on to Choir Boy if he hadn't joined the Chantry."

"Joined the Chantry? The man I met last night was not wearing any vestments, though he did seem a bit prudish."

"Now _that's_ an interesting story, one best told over a bottle of whiskey. Story is that the youngest son of the Vael family had a wild time of it as a kid; caused his parents quite the headache and embarrassment. Family sent him off to the Chantry to lessen the scandal. Not sure if it worked or not."

"How so?"

"Word is he was about to take his vows when his family was killed. Basically stormed out of the Grand Cleric's office, renouncing his vows and swearing vengeance. The Grand Cleric was not amused."

"No, I suppose she wouldn't be," Éowyn murmured. The picture Varric was painting was so different to the one she had seen last night. She was a pretty good judge of character, had to be to be good at her job, and it irked her that she had possibly misread Sebastian Vael. There had been hints of temper but nothing like what Varric was describing. "How did I not hear about this? Seems a thing like that would be on the front page of every rag in this town."

"I'm just going to pretend you're not including this paper as one of those rags and just say that the Chantry is very good at keeping its secrets," Varric paused, a wide grin spreading across his face. "But not so good that I can't ferret out a story."

"So why didn't you publish it? Would have boosted your circulation."

Varric shrugged. "Didn't seem right. The man's family was just murdered and there was enough ink flowing about that, didn't need to add to the mess."

"Aw, you old softie."

"Well, shit, Hawke, you and I both know what it's like to lose family. I may not like the man, but he didn't deserve to be smeared across the front page for a reaction that either of us could have had."

Éowyn fell silent at that, drumming her fingers on the armrest. Varric was right. She had lashed out in anger when she lost family, she couldn't disparage another for doing the same.

"So, he's not a part of the Chantry anymore, which means he could possibly now be a target for whoever killed his family, especially as he's digging into their deaths. Wonder if he's thought of that."

"My guess would be no. I doubt the thought has even crossed his mind. But it has yours."

"Well, I have a suspicious mind and it's been working well for me. I'll be careful, Dad," she smirked as Varric glared at her.

"Careful, or I'll sic Aveline on you. She'll keep you in line if nothing else."

"You're all heart Varric."

"Hey, I take care of my friends." Varric leaned forward, his eyes suddenly serious. "You need to be careful on this one, Hawke. Dealing with the rich and noble can be hazardous for your health."

"So you've said. I need the money, Varric. I'll have to sell the house and live in my office if I don't get out of this hole. The down payment he gave me will go a long way, but if I complete the job I'll be sitting pretty for a while."

Varric's eyes narrowed. "Just how much is he paying you?"

"Thousand down. Another four if I find who pulled the trigger."

"Maker's breath, Hawke, five large? You have got to be shitting me."

"I'd show you the check but I've already cashed it. I'm taking this case, Varric. It's done. Don't be such a worrywart. I can handle myself."

Varric snorted as if he didn't quite believe her but he rolled his chair over to a file cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. Pulling out a thick file, he dropped it on the desk in front of her.

“Here, this is everything I have on the Vael family. Maybe you’ll find something of use in there. I've got backgrounds on the entire family there, as well as information on Vael Consolidated from when his great-grandfather started the business up to that current idiot who’s running it.”

“Saving it for a rainy day were we?”

“Hey, better to be prepared than not.”

“Thanks Varric, this will help a lot. I’m sure there’s more information in here than what I’ll get from Vael.”

Éowyn stuffed the file into her bag, hoping she’d have time to go through it at least once before Vael came to her office later that day. That way she’d be able to see where the cracks were in what he told her.

“You might also want to take a trip up to Starkhaven and speak with the guard there. You can probably charm the guard report out of them. Barring that, I’m sure Aveline can get it for you.”

“I can try to charm first, I am very charming after all.”

“Just one of the many things we love about you, though it couldn't hurt to have Aveline pave the way for you. Now, get out, I have a paper to run and those assholes out there have deadlines to meet.”

“Such a task master, I almost pity them.”

“Don’t, they don’t deserve pity.”

Éowyn laughed as she shouldered her bag and head toward the door. “If you say so, Varric. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.”

“Be in touch regardless. I wouldn't mind an exclusive as to how this all turns out.”

“Of course you wouldn't.”

~~~

Back in her office with a cup of black coffee at her side, Éowyn dug into the file Varric had given her. It was just as detailed as he promised. Background profiles on the prominent family members, reports on Vael Consolidated’s holdings and dealings, and even copies of arrest reports on various members of the Vael family, Sebastian Vael’s included. Public intoxication, reckless driving, inciting brawls, even solicitation. That last one surprised her the most. With his looks and family money she doubted that he was rarely without companionship if he wanted it, perhaps it was another way to stick it to his family or maybe there was something more behind his behavior. More than enough to cause embarrassment for the family, more than enough for a rigid and pious family to force him into the Chantry. The whole thing seemed barbaric and outdated. How they managed to get away with it was beyond her. Yet another question to add to the pile.

The financial reports for Vael Consolidated made her eyes cross but she poured through them anyway, knowing that the answer lay there somehow. Someone had wanted the company, or at least the profits it generated, and had been willing to murder to get it.

Looking at the dossier on Goran Vael, she just didn’t see how he was capable of pulling it off without getting caught. Damn near the bottom of his class at Starkhaven University, unable to maintain a relationship for longer that a few months, all around loser. No, someone else was pulling the strings there. Someone who was able to manipulate Goran.

Next she pulled out the architectural plans on the Vael mansion and the security the Vael’s had hired. The mansion was more of a showplace than a fortress, though the security firm the Vael’s had hired had a solid reputation. Not solid enough it would seem, she mused.

Varric was right. She needed to get her hands on the guard report. She was honestly a little surprised it wasn't included in the file he had given her, but even Varric’s reach extended only so far. If the murders had taken place in Kirkwall it would have been a different story, but Starkhaven was a whole other ball of wax.

Éowyn slumped back in her chair, leaning her head back and stared at the ceiling. Dammit, that meant she had to borrow a car. Hers was currently in the shop having had an unfortunate encounter with several bullets and a fire hydrant on her last job.

Anders had not been happy with her, muttering about how it was a miracle it managed to continue to run with the way she treated her car. That old Studebaker was a sturdy thing though. It had survived their flight from Fereldan and all through her years in Kirkwall, she had faith that it would survive a bit longer even if Anders didn’t.

She looked at her watch. Nearly half past noon. Aveline would surely be in her office. She wouldn't mind if she stopped by for a visit.

~~~

“No.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet, Aveline, much less asked a question.”

“The answer’s still no. I’m still getting flak from the last favor I did for you.”

Aveline Vallen stood behind her desk, her arms crossed and a frown across her face. Her suit was starched to the point where it could probably stand up by itself without her in it. As her rank of Guard Captain she felt it her duty to set an example for all the men and women under her command. She was ruthless in her discipline but fair at the same time. The stink the previous Guard Captain had left on the office was hard to wash off but if anyone could do it, it was Aveline Vallen.

“You don’t even know what I’m asking for.”

“Whatever it is, it means trouble.”

“All I need is a guard report.” At Aveline’s hard stare, she continued. “It’s for a case I’m working on.”

“You have got to be kidding me. I’m not giving you a guard report.”

“Come on, Aveline,” Éowyn wheedled. “For old time’s sake. I need this. I’m tired of tailing wayward husbands and lost dogs.”

“If you’re chasing after lost dogs that’s of your own doing.”

“Come on, Aveline. It’s just one little report.”

Aveline tossed her hands up in exasperation. “One little report? And just what is this one little report about?”

“A murder, or murders more accurately. Happened about three years ago,” Éowyn paused, knowing that Aveline really wasn't going to like what she said next. “In Starkhaven.”

Aveline just stared at her, disbelief written across her face. “Let me get this straight. You not only want access to a guard report, but a guard report that’s from three years ago and from Starkhaven? Do you have any idea the amount of red tape that will involve?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that you can’t handle, Aveline. Don’t the cities of the Free Marches coordinate with each other? Surely you can work something out.”

“You overestimate my abilities, Hawke. I ask them for this and they’re going to wonder why,” Aveline sighed. “Which case are we talking about?”

“The Vael murders.”

“Andraste preserve me, you don’t ask for much do you?”

“Only for what I think I can get away with.”

Aveline choked back a laugh, trying not to smile. That was when Éowyn knew that she had her.

“I’ll see what I can do, Hawke, but I’m not making any promises. The people in Starkhaven aren't as crusty as us and are more prone to taking offense. They're almost as pretentious as those Orlesians.”

“Been talking with Varric I see.”

“As much trouble as that rag of his causes me, the man has a good nose for news and is a good judge of character.”

“That he is. He warned me off this case too.”

“Maybe you should listen to the both of us then.”

“I can’t do that, Aveline. I made a promise. I shook on it.”

“Damn you and your promises. You’d probably live a longer life if you weren't so bound by your word.”

“Who wants a long life when it can be an interesting one?”

“Be careful what you wish for, Hawke. Having an interesting life is considered to be a curse by many,” Aveline sighed as she sat down and pulled her Rolodex to her. Éowyn let the corner of her lips curl up as she watched the other woman flip through the cards with one hand and pick up the phone with the other.

“Yes, Operator, guard headquarters in Starkhaven please. Yes, I’ll hold.” Éowyn’s half smile spread across her face into a wide grin as she watched Aveline bully her way through different operators to the desk sergeant until she finally got to the head detective of the murder squad. It was a thing of beauty watching her work. Given half a chance, Aveline Vallen could bully the Maker out of his self-imposed exile.

“Look, Mallory, I know it’s a pain in the ass but just let her--yes she’s a woman, so? Just let her look at the file, will you? I’ll forget that you owe me fifty bucks from that last game of Wicked Grace we played together. No, I know you would have paid me. Yes, she’ll be very discrete. No,” at this Aveline gave her a hard stare. “She won’t cause you any problems.”

Éowyn put her hands up, trying to project the aura of innocence. Aveline rolled her eyes as she continued speaking with the detective. Now that she knew she was getting what she wanted, Éowyn was eager to get going. It was several more minutes before Aveline finally hung up.

“He’s expecting you tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock sharp. Do not be late and try to keep the snark to a minimum, will you? I’d like to keep the lines of cooperation running between Kirkwall and Starkhaven.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I have _excellent_ manners. It’s just that not all people are deserving of them.”

“Just how are you planning on getting to Starkhaven? Your car is still at Anders’ garage getting all the bullet holes patched up.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it? I’ll figure something out. Maybe I can sweet talk Isabela into lending me her car.”

“That is highly doubtful. That woman is more protective of her car than most people are about their children. She doesn't even like you looking at it.”

“I happen to be an excellent driver, Aveline. It’s not my fault that there are so many idiots on the road, and before you say anything, those bullet holes are not completely my fault. Besides, Bessie can take a hit.”

At that Éowyn stood up, placing her hat on her head. “Thanks, Aveline, for paving the way for me in Starkhaven. It’ll make things considerably easier.”

“Ha. You've never been to Starkhaven, have you? They’re not nearly as accommodating as I am."

"You're a peach, Aveline. Say hello to Donnic for me. Tell him he needs to take you out to dinner. I'm sure Isabela can get you a table at the nightclub."

"I'm not taking my husband to that den of iniquity. Now, get out."

As Éowyn left the guard headquarters she felt her stomach rumble and realized that she hadn't had anything to eat besides coffee all day. Jogging down the steps she cast a careful eye around the square. She didn't like Hightown much, didn't like how the people up here tried to pretend that their shit didn't stink. No, she much preferred Lowtown where what you saw was pretty much what you got. She had a strong suspicion that she wasn't going to like Starkhaven much if it was as pretentious as both Varric and Aveline had told her.

She was about to head back to Lowtown and grab a burger at The Hanged Man when she veered left, heading toward the Chantry Courtyard. She hadn’t been up here much in the last three years. Of the two of them Carver had been the more religious one. After he was gone she just didn’t see the point of going any more.

Kirkwall’s Chantry had always creeped her out a little bit. It seemed too… bare, cold. The grandeur it tried to project always seemed like it was trying too hard. Though she hadn’t attended the Chantry in Lothering much either, she much preferred it to this monstrosity.

It was too damn quiet in there even with one of the sisters reciting the Chant of Light. As she had so many times before, she wondered why anyone would choose to live such a life.

Or stay in it if you were pushed.

Shaking her head, Éowyn pushed such thoughts away. She had a case to work on and didn’t have time to philosophize about the Chantry and its servants. Turning on her foot she walked back to the entrance when she heard a voice call out her name from behind her.

“Miss Hawke, I thought we were meeting at your office later today.”

Éowyn sighed, straightening her shoulders before turning around. In the light of day the man was no less gorgeous, suit all tidy and not a hair out of place. He looked more like a businessman on his way to a meeting than someone who was a member of the Chantry. But according to Varric, he had broken ties with the Chantry, which begged the question as to why was he here?

“That we were, Mr. Vael. I just stopped by to see if I was missing anything after being absent from services so many years,” Éowyn said, looking around. “Seems as if not much has changed.”

“Stability and routine gives people peace.”

“For some maybe, but I didn’t come here to debate religious philosophy.”

“Then why are you here?”

Éowyn shrugged. “Curiosity, and now that I've satisfied that, I’m going to go fill my empty stomach with something other than coffee, and then I’m going to see a man about a car.”

“A car? What do you need a car for?”

“I’m heading up to Starkhaven tomorrow and I can’t exactly walk there if I want to keep my appointment with the guard.”

“You’re going to Starkhaven?”

“I just said so, didn’t I? Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

“Repeat everything… no. Don’t you have a car?”

“I do, it’s just in the shop getting some holes patched.”

“Some holes patched. How?” Vael said before clearing his throat, realizing he was repeating her words again. He had the look of a man who wanted to ask how her car got holes in it but was too polite to ask. Éowyn didn’t even bother to hide her smirk and let it grow even wider when she saw the faint blush creep up his face.

"I work primarily in Lowtown, Mr Vael, with occasional trips to Darktown. Neither are really known for low crime rates, and in my line of work one meets some rather disreputable characters."

"I'm sure. Why are you going to the Starkhaven guard?"

Éowyn paused, not sure how he would react, but then the man _had_ hired her to find out who killed his family, so he had to expect that she would go poking in dark corners. "I need to look at the guard report and it's quicker, and easier, to go there then have them courier it here. That, and I don't have a personal relationship with the guard there that'll let me breeze into their records without much fuss."

"What do you expect to find by looking at the guard report?"

"It will give me a clearer idea of what happened. Seeing the scene and how it played out can help to bring answers."

Vael remained silent as they walked through the Chantry doors and his silence only grew as they descended the marble steps into the Courtyard.

"Does that bother you?"

He turned those blue eyes on her, a fierce light burning from within. "Do whatever you need to do to find my family justice, Miss Hawke. I promised you open access to my family's affairs and you'll get it. I need you to do whatever you need to do to find out who wanted them dead."

"I gave my word that I will. I don't go back on my word, Mr Vael."

He considered her for a moment, his eyes probing. "I believe you," he paused, as if considering his next words carefully. "Would it help for you to see the house?"

"It might, yes. You still have access? I thought everything went to your cousin."

"Not the house. The house was still in my grandfather's name and he left it to me."

"How does that work if you were to be a brother in the Chantry? Aren't you supposed to give up all material things when you join?"

"Yes, but I didn't discover this until after my family died. My parents neglected to tell me of this; or of the inheritance my grandfather left me." His voice went hard as he spoke. There's something there, Éowyn thought and had to stamp down on her curiosity. The man obviously wanted justice for his family, but his tone indicated that he hadn't been on the best of terms with his parents. She recognized that tone. It was doubtful that his relationship with them had much, if anything to do with their deaths, but it was always a possibility. She didn't want to consider it, but knew that she had to.

"Ah, I wondered how a Chantry brother was able to pay so handsomely."

"I have not been sworn in as a brother, as you well know I assume, but my strong ties to the Chantry are still strong."

"Huh, even after the row you had with the Grand Cleric? What?" she asked at his shocked look. "I'm a private investigator, I investigate."

"It is true that the Grand Cleric and I do not see eye to eye on this matter and that I have renounced my vows, but I am still a man of faith.”

Éowyn nodded noncommittally as she continued toward Lowtown. She briefly thought about taking a trolley but decided against it, wanting the time to think over the information she had gathered so far. Between the file Varric had given her and the information Vael had provided, she was sure she would be neck deep in papers well past midnight. Digging into paperwork was not her favorite thing. She'd much rather be out on the streets, knocking on doors and generally being a nuisance. She was good at being a nuisance.

"I'll take you to Starkhaven."

Éowyn tripped over a cobblestone, narrowly avoiding falling on her face, and would have if Vael hadn't grabbed her arm. Something fizzled in Éowyn's brain as his fingers lingered on her arm before slowly letting go.

"What?"

A sudden slow smile crept up on his face. _Sweet Andraste_ , she thought, _a smile like that should be illegal_. "I said I'll take you. You'll have an easier time of it getting into the house with me there."

"I'm sure I'd manage to get into the house without your presence."

"Certainly, but wouldn't it be easier my way? What time are you meeting with the guard?"

"Ten sharp. Aveline will have my head if I'm late."

"It shouldn't surprise me that you're on a first name basis with the captain of the guard. I'll be round your office by eight. That should give us plenty of time to get to Starkhaven," he paused. "Unless you'd rather I pick you up at your home."

"No," she said quickly, thinking of the late night ahead of her and that she'd probably end up sleeping on the sofa. "The office will be fine."

"Good. We can talk on the drive about any questions you have. I will see you in the morning then, Miss Hawke." He started to turn away, but stopped halfway. "I was on my way to see you to give you the files I promise, but since you're here." He handed her a thick manila envelope, not as thick as Varric's, but enough to let her know that she'd be busy for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening.

"Ah, thanks," she said, taking the file from him. "I'll take a look when I get back to the office. I'll see you in the morning then."

"Until tomorrow." His eyes lingered on hers, as if he wanted to say more. Instead he gave her a slight nod.

Éowyn watched as he walked, no strolled away, heading back to Hightown. What had just happened? She didn't like it when clients shoehorned their way into her investigation. Sure they needed to be kept updated, but she didn't involve them in the actual steps of investigating. They just got in the way and slowed her down. Some might say that she didn't play well with others, while a select few who knew her better knew that she didn't want to put anyone else in harm's way. She herself didn't have an issue with dodging bullets, but putting others in their path was something she preferred not to do.

There were some people, however, who refused to sit back and wait while she worked. It would appear that Sebastian Vael was one of those people.

"Well, shit," she said to herself as she stuffed her hands in her pockets and headed to Lowtown. She stomach rumbled loudly as she crossed the street toward the trolley station. Food. She needed food and she knew just the place to get it.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The Hanged Man was not the worst diner in Lowtown but it wasn’t the best either. What it did have was some of the most interesting mix of people Éowyn had ever met in both Fereldan and Kirkwall combined. One could find both tradesmen, mercenaries, and low-level thugs all mixing together in relative peace. Corff, owner and cook, kept the peace between them all, sometimes with a stern look, other times with the bat he kept under the counter.

Éowyn walked through the door, smiling at the cheerful jingle of the bell above her. The sound should have seemed out of place but for some strange reason it fit perfectly, just as the petite brunette with the guileless face fit. No matter how shitty her day was, Merrill never failed to put a smile on Éowyn’s face.

"Hawke! You're here!" Before Éowyn could brace herself, Merrill launched herself at her, nearly knocking her down with her enthusiastic hug. Merrill had arrived in Kirkwall not too long after Éowyn had but the girl had a naivete about her that made Éowyn want to wrap her up in a bubble and protect her from the harshness that was Kirkwall. That being unrealistic, Éowyn settled for keeping an eye on her and tried to be there for her when Merrill needed her.

"That I am. Any chance that Corff has that Reuben sandwich of his on the menu today? Wouldn't mind a cup of coffee either."

Merrill pulled back, a smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes. Éowyn frowned at that and the dark circles that sat underneath them.

"You know Corff always has the fixings for a Reuben but don't you think you should have something other than coffee? I'm sure you've already drank a pot and a half today. You'll have milk."

Éowyn tried not to roll her eyes even as she smiled. "Okay, little mother, I'll have milk instead." Éowyn extracted herself from her friend and took a seat at the counter. The noon rush was over but the regulars were still there, nursing their coffee or poking at a piece of pie. A couple of men that looked to be as old as dirt sat in a corner booth playing Wicked Grace as they bickered over the weather and which of them suffered more because of it. It was a familiar sight that never failed to warm Éowyn's heart.

The smells of the diner were making her stomach feel as if it was eating itself, fortunately Merrill arrived with her sandwich before that happened. Éowyn sank her teeth into it, not bothering to smother the satisfied groan that escaped her. Life had few enough pleasures, it was ridiculous to avoid or ignore them.

Half the sandwich was gone before the hunger pains abated. Éowyn swirled her fries in the spicy mustard she favored as she regarded Merrill on the other side of the counter. Despite the smile she gave to each customer the bounce in her step wasn't there.

"Want to tell me what's going on?"

"I...oh it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Merrill, it's not nothing and I will worry about it. Has your family been bothering you again?"

"It's nothing new, just the same complaints. I can handle it."

"Merrill."

"Honest, Hawke, it's nothing I haven't dealt with before. They will never understand why I came to the city and I've accepted that. Hopefully one day they will too."

Éowyn wasn't so sure but she kept that to herself. Merrill's parents were rather traditional and kept their children isolated from the rest of society. Where Merrill had found the gumption to leave was a constant mystery to Éowyn. She knew how heavy a parent's disapproval could weigh on a person and how hard it could be to crawl out from underneath it. Many people looked at Merrill and saw a naive waif who floated dreamlike through her day but Hawke knew that Merrill could stand her ground when she needed to.

"So what exciting thing are you up to today? Going to catch any bad guys?"

"Probably not today but there's always tomorrow. I do have a new case. In fact I'm heading up to Starkhaven tomorrow to snoop around."

"Starkhaven? Oh, how exciting! I've heard it's very pretty there but how are you going to get there? Your car is still at Anders' garage. I saw it this morning on my way to work. It still has a lot of holes in it." Merrill's eyes grew soft with concern.

"Well, that tends to happen when people are shooting at you."

"You shouldn't be so flippant about such things, Hawke. You should be more careful."

"Careful isn't exactly in my job description but for you I can promise to try. How is your painting going? Got anything new?" Éowyn asked in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject. As expected, Merrill's eyes lit up, pure joy filling her being.

"I did start something. But it's not ready yet for anyone to see. No, not yet. Not ready at all."

"Merrill," Éowyn reached across the counter and put her hand over Merrill's fidgeting one. "You are a brilliant painter. You shouldn't hide it away."

"I don't. I mean, I just want it to be perfect. Oh, that's a stupid thing to say."

"No, not so stupid. Merrill, you have a great talent and once others see your work they'll agree. Hasn't Varric offered to buy a couple of your paintings?"

"Oh, but he's just a friend. He was just being nice."

"Varric is many things but you can bet your ass that he wouldn't have offered to buy your paintings just to be nice. We both care about you Merrill and want what's best."

Merrill's green eyes filled with tears that she tried to hold back. Bringing up a corner of her apron, she dabbed at the corner of her eyes and sniffled. "You've always had such faith in me Hawke. I really don't know what I've done to deserve it."

"Now just settle down with the waterworks there, Merrill, you'll put me off my lunch. You're family and family watches out for each other," Éowyn told her, her tone brokering to argument.

"Hawke! Quit distracting my waitress. There are customers who want their food."

"Ah, come on, Corff, it's just me and those two ancient bags of skin and bones over there who are more interested in their cards than food, and let's face it, no one comes here for the food."

"You knocking my cooking, Hawke?"

"Is that what you call this? Huh. And here I thought this was a way to slowly poison people to death. Though I will admit you brew a damn fine strong coffee. A person could stick their spoon in it and it'll stand up on it's own."

Corff sneered at her over the half-wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the room. "You want weak-ass coffee I hear Hightown's a place you can find it."

"Oh no, yours will suit me just fine. If I could get a cup of it that is. Merrill's cut me off."

Corff snorted and went back to scraping the grill, satisfied with their banter.

“Hawke! I have a bone to pick with you.”

Éowyn turned on her stool, taking in the figure that stood in the doorway. His odor permeated the diner swiftly like sewage running downhill. A scraggly beard covered his face and there was a wild look in his eyes that promised trouble.

“I’m eating my lunch here, Samson. Whatever beef you have with me will have to wait.”

“You cost me my job and my wife.”

“You cost yourself your job, Samson. Same goes for your wife. What reasonable woman wants to spend her life with a fat-head who can’t hold his liquor and is a womanizer to boot? Your wife struck me as a reasonable woman and honestly Samson, I really can’t understand what _any_ woman would see in you.” Éowyn leaned back on the counter, resting her arms on the edge. To the average person she looked like a person at her leisure, those who knew her knew better however. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Merrill take a step to the side. Smart girl, she thought.

“She left me and now I have nothing!”

“And you have only yourself to blame. Now, do you mind? I’d like to finish my sandwich and get on with my day.”

She’d been ready for it but she still had to move quickly when Samson launched himself at her. Up close he smelled even worse, enough to make her eyes water. Sweat and cheap booze were not a good combination. Ducking under his wild swing she turned and jabbed her fist into his kidney and brought her foot down on the back of his knee. Samson howled in pain as he stumbled before regaining his feet and charged at her with unexpected speed. Éowyn dodged his wild left hook but wasn’t able to avoid his second swing. Her head snapped back as stars briefly filled her vision. They came back into focus just in time to see Samson pull back to take another swing when he suddenly dropped to his feet. Éowyn looked up to see Merrill standing behind Samson’s prone body, Corff’s baseball bat clutched in her hands.

Wiping the trickle of blood from her lip Éowyn gave Merrill a rueful grin. The girl’s eyes were wide, as if she was astonished by her actions. Éowyn nudged her foot at Samson’s stomach and gave a satisfied nod when he didn’t budge.

“Appreciate the assist,” she said as she stepped over Samson and gently pried the bat out of Merrill’s hands. “You’ve got moxie Merrill, don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“I can’t believe how you stood up to him like that.”

“This guy? Mainly full of hot air. I’m sure the guard will be around soon to pick him up. Sorry about the mess, Corff.”

“Dammit Hawke, why do you always bring trouble with you?”

“How is this my fault? Can’t help that this guy’s an asshole. He’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” Her eyes flicked up to Corff’s receding hairline. “Or what’s left of your hair anyway.”

Corff snorted as he went back to the kitchen, grumbling under his breath. Merrill stepped forward, offering her handkerchief. Dabbing at the corner of her mouth, Éowyn scowled at the blood there. Perfect. A bruised face was going to make a great impression on the guard up in Starkhaven.

“Are you okay, Hawke?”

“This? It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse.”

“I’ll get you some ice to put on it. It will help with the swelling.”

“Don’t worry, little mother, I’ll take care of myself.” Éowyn winced as she pulled the cloth away. She wanted to kick Samson again if for no other reason than the inconvenience he was causing her. Normally she wouldn’t have bothered talking with the guard over something like this, but there were witnesses and some time in jail would do the guy some good. At least dry him out some for a while. She had no faith that he’d stay that way once he got out.

With nothing else to do but wait until someone from the guard showed up to haul off Samson’s ass, Éowyn sat back down and ate the rest of her fries while she waited for the guard to show up.

~~~

The sunlight slanting across her face was the first indication that she hadn’t made it home. Éowyn cracked open an eyeball to see that she was indeed still at the office and in yesterday’s clothes. Swearing, she sat up and had to steady herself as her vision blurred slightly. After leaving The Hanged Man yesterday she had spent the rest of the afternoon and well into the night pouring over the files she had gathered. She had tons of information but much of it meant nothing if she couldn’t talk to the players involved. Add in the fact that the case was three years old and all she really had to go on was a mysterious note indicating that someone had ordered the hit on Vael’s family.

What if it was fake? What if it was someone just yanking Vael’s chain. It was entirely possible. There were people out there that took great pleasure in making a mess of other people’s lives just for the hell of it.

Then there was the other side. Whoever sent the note could be telling the truth. If that was the case why step forward now? What had changed to cause the note-sender to do so? So many questions and not enough answers. Not yet anyway.

Éowyn glanced at the clock and swore again. It was just after seven thirty, not nearly enough time to run home and change and get back here before Vael showed up. Marching into the bathroom, she flicked on the light and stared into the mirror as it sputtered to life. All in all she didn’t look too bad, nothing a little make-up wouldn’t help. There was no helping the bruise on her chin though, or the cut on her lip. She cursed herself for not ducking Samson’s fist quick enough as she splashed water on her face, wincing slightly at her tender jaw.

She stripped down to her bra and panties and rummaged through the closet, praying that she had something suitable for the meeting. Her clothes from the previous day were rumpled and there was a blood stain on the collar that she had missed. Yet another reason to curse at Samson. Fortunately both she and Carver had gotten into the habit of keeping a spare set of clothes at the office for occasions such as this. The kicker being that she needed to remember to replace the clothes after she used them.

“Ah, hell,” she muttered as she pulled out a grey suit that had seen better days. One of the buttons was loose but the shape was decent enough and wouldn’t hang on her like a burlap sack. She was just buttoning up the jacket when a knock sounded at the door.

“He’s early. Of course he’s early. His type always is,” she said to herself as she pinned her hair back into a low bun on her way to the door. It was an hour and a half drive to Starkhaven, she figured she could do her makeup in the car.

Upon opening the door she mentally cursed in her head. Not only was he early but he was as meticulous in his dress and appearance as he was the last few times she had seen him. Damn the man.

“You’re early,” she accused.

Vael looked her up and down and Éowyn had to swallow the impulse to squirm under his gaze. She knew her clothes were cheap and bought off the rack, but she did the best with what she had and refused to let some privileged Hightowner to let her feel inferior.

“On the contrary, I’m right on time. I--,” he stopped and before she could stop him he caught her chin between his fingers and turned her face to the side. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

“A moron that I wasn’t quick enough to dodge,” she answered, jerking her head out of his hand and stepped back quickly. “It’s just a scratch. I’ve had worse.”

Grabbing her case from her desk she turned back to him and saw the grim frown on his face. Trying not to roll her eyes, she shouldered her bag. “I’m a private detective, Mr Vael. Occasionally I run into situations that are solved with fists and bullets rather than words. Now, shall we go?”

Vael inclined his head but the frown remained. Éowyn breezed through the door, locking it behind them. The hallway suddenly seemed more cramped than it normally did with him standing next to her. She didn’t consider herself a short person but he topped her by a good four inches. It wasn’t his height but his mere presence that made the space seem smaller.

 _Get a grip, Hawke_ , she thought to herself. _Now’s not the time to let your hormones get the better of you. You have a job to do_.

The morning sun beat down mercilessly as they left the building. She could already tell that today was going to be a scorcher and wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of spending over an hour in a hot, steaming car. Just the mere thought made her sweat. There were days when she missed Ferelden and it’s near constant rain and gloominess.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk she was brought up short by the vehicle parked at the curb. It was so impossibly white with gold trim and shone like a jewel, an exotic creature so out of place on the streets of Lowtown.

“Maker’s breath, is that a Jaguar Mark IV Drophead?”

“Yes,” Vael said, casting her a side glance. “You know cars?”

“In a way. I know enough that I probably shouldn’t get in this one. I shouldn’t even look at it.” At Vael’s puzzled look she added, “Cars and I don’t exactly have the best track record. Or so Anders would have you believe. He thinks I bring bad luck to any car that has the misfortune of me driving it.”

“Well seeing as you won’t be driving, I think we’ll be safe. Shall we?” he said, holding the passenger side door open for her. Bemused, Éowyn stepped in and sank into the plush leather seat. She was certain she would have to peel herself off it later but at the moment she could enjoy sensation of the soft leather underneath her.

As they crossed the invisible line that marked the boundary between Lowtown and Hightown Éowyn finally let her curiosity get the better of her and asked, “So tell me, how is it that a Chantry brother can afford a car like this? Another leftover from your past?”

Vael paused briefly before answering. “My father gave it to me when I was set to take my vows.”

“You’re yanking my chain. What use is a car like this to a sworn brother? Aren’t you all supposed to take vows of poverty and chastity?”

“My father’s… gift, however misguided, was meant with good intentions. I hope to auction it off at the next charity event to raise money for an orphanage. To answer your other questions, yes, sworn brothers and sisters do take such vows, but as I’ve told you, I renounced those when my family died.”

“So you did. From what I’ve discovered so far it would seem that you weren’t all that close to your parents,” she said as they left the city limits and entered the bare landscape of the surrounding Vimmark Mountains. Despite its closeness to the sea, the land around Kirkwall was dry and sparse, a desolate place where people passed through quickly on their way to other places. Very few willingly stayed here.

“That would be true. I’m a third son. They were hoping for a daughter so you could say that I was a disappointment to them since birth.”

“So your way of dealing with that disappointment was to cause as much trouble as possible then?”

Vael grimaced. “Indeed. I’m not proud of my actions and I have spent the years since they sent me to the Chantry trying to atone for my behavior.”

“Being sent away like that though, that had to sting.”

“I wasn’t a willing participant in my joining the Chantry if that’s what you’re asking, but eventually I came to find peace there.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“You don’t believe me.”

“It’s not so much a matter of believing, but in my experience, a person’s base nature doesn’t change, not without a really big incentive to do so. A tiger can try to hide his stripes but they’re still there.”

“Interesting analogy, but I don’t know that I can agree with you. If a person is willing and able to change his course, he usually can.”

Éowyn shrugged. “Maybe, but that’s not true of all people.” She slid a glance at him. “Perhaps that’s true of you though.”

“One can only endeavor to better oneself. It’s an ongoing process.”

“Do you always talk like that? I mean, it’s like you’re reading out of the Chant of Light or something. Don’t people find that annoying?”

“Only heathens do.”

Éowyn opened her mouth, ready with a sharp retort but was struck dumb by the grin that tilted his lips. Andraste have mercy.

“Why, Sebastian Vael, did you just make a joke?”

“I’ve been known to do so from time to time.”

“I find myself having to readjust my opinion of you based on this new evidence.”

“And just what is your opinion of me, Miss Hawke?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Would I ask if I didn’t?”

“Well then, fine. You’re very controlled, it shows in the way you dress, all clean and tidy. You’re polite but I suspect if someone crossed you they’d soon regret it.”

“Why do I hear a but in there?”

“But, I think there’s more to you than that underneath all that control and politeness,” she paused, wondering if she should continue. _What the hell_ , she thought, _in for a penny_. “Duty and honor are very important to you, that much is clear. You want justice for your family which is admirable considering how they’ve treated you. If my family had tried to shut me away in the Chantry, well, let’s just say it wouldn’t have ended well.”

“Are you saying I have a misplaced sense of loyalty?”

“No, I’m saying that you are a good man. Not many people would be willing to do what you are if they were in your position.”

“You seem to have a very low opinion of people, Miss Hawke.”

Éowyn shrugged. “When you’ve seen as much of the ugly underbelly of humanity as I have, it can be hard to see the good in people.”

“There’s still good in this world.”

“I didn’t say that there wasn’t, just that it can be hard to find. And to keep.”

Éowyn fell silent after that, turning her gaze out to the countryside that flew by. The road whispered under them as she let the silence stretch out. Reaching down into her satchel, Éowyn pulled out the ever-growing file and started paging through it again. Twenty minutes passed by before she finally spoke again.

“So, this cousin of yours, Goran, from what I’ve read he doesn’t seem the capable type.”

Vael snorted. “No, he’s not. Goran can barely hold two thoughts together in his head at the same time.”

“So how is it that he’s now the head of Vael Consolidated? Isn’t there a board or something that would have to approve him taking the CEO chair?”

“There is and they’ve spent the last three years fighting amongst themselves, jockeying for the position rather than do what’s best for the company and its employees.”

“Ah, so they’re fighting over who gets to take his place before giving Goran the boot. Isn’t that putting the cart ahead of the horse.”

“One could say that, yes.”

“Still doesn’t answer how he got the top spot. Is he your closest living relative?”

“Yes, and the bylaws state that as long as there’s a Vael able to take the seat, that person will have it.”

“And with you being in the Chantry, that would make you unavailable for the job,” Éowyn reasoned.

“You would be right about that, yes.”

“Do you have any idea who would benefit from Goran being in charge? If he’s as useless as you say, there’s no way he’ll hold that position for long, family line or not.”

“There is another relative, I forget his name at the moment, but we haven’t heard from him in years. Last I knew he was somewhere in Rivain.”

“Hmm.” Éowyn made a mental note to look into this other relative. In cases like this, especially when there was a lot of money involved, the rats tended to come out from the sewers.

“You think someone else is pulling the strings?”

“It’s a reasonable assumption. Someone stands to gain from Goran being CEO. It may not be one of the board members, but I’d be willing to bet that it’s someone close to the company and your family.”

Vael frowned, looking as if he didn’t like the idea but then he straightened his shoulders and nodded stiffly. _Good_ , Éowyn thought, _at least I don’t have to fight him on that front_. It was tricky business when dealing with family, even more so when money was involved. She had seen it time and again where perfectly reasonable people lost their heads over money. The only thing more dangerous was when emotions were involved. Combine the two and you had a powder keg that could explode at any moment.

“You know, I don’t normally bring clients with me when I’m investigating, tends to muck things up. It’d probably be best if you made yourself scarce while I meet with Detective Mallory.”

“I promise to not interfere, but I’m going with you.”

Éowyn sighed. She should have figured that he’d be stubborn about this. “There’s really no need for you to be there. If, in fact, someone in the guard was paid to sweep evidence under the rug your presence there could only hinder my investigation.”

“Or it could stir them up so they contact whoever bribed them.”

“True, there is that,” Éowyn said grudgingly. “But it puts you in the crosshairs. If I go in and discreetly look at the file there's less chance of things going pear-shaped.” _Or_ , she thought, _less chance of putting you in danger_. It was only a matter of time before whoever had hired the Flint gang to take out the Vaels to realize their mistake in not adding Sebastian to the list.

“I have this huge file here, maybe you can go through it and see if anything pops out at you. You’re more familiar with your family’s dealings, so it stands to reason that you’d notice if something was out of place.”

“I haven’t been fully involved in my family’s dealings for over ten years, at least not the inner circle part, but you do have a point. However, I will be accompanying you to the guard,” he said, his tone brokering no argument.

Éowyn narrowed her eyes. “I thought I made it clear that I don’t tolerate clients interfering with my investigation.”

“You did. I won’t be badgering the detective, I promise you that, but as you just said, by looking at the file I might see something you don’t.”

Seeing as she just _had_ said that she couldn’t argue with him on that. Dammit.

“Fine, but could you at least try to keep a low profile? I know it’ll be difficult with that face of yours but if you could keep quiet that’d be great.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Suddenly flustered, Éowyn focused on the papers in front of her, trying to hide the mortification she was feeling. Had she just really said that? Out loud? She normally didn’t let her mouth get ahead of her brain like that. At least when sober. Dammit.

“Just, just take my lead when we get there.” Attempting to regain her composure, she stuff the file back in her satchel and pulled out a compact. Flipping down the visor, she applied her make-up, careful to not disturb the cut on her lip too much and mentally cursed Samson again. She hoped that Aveline had put him in their most uncomfortable cell. The one with the rats.

Glancing at her watch she saw that it was near quarter past nine. The trip to Starkhaven had gone faster than she had thought. A discrete glance at the speedometer told her that Vael apparently had a loose relationship with speed limits.

“You know, a car like this, it’s just begging to be pulled over if a guard catches you speeding.”

Vael just smiled at her with a grin that no good Chantry brother should ever wear. Éowyn cocked her head to the side, a smile of her own forming on her lips. “It truly is an amazing piece of machinery. Any chance that you’ll let me drive it?”

“After you told me of your rocky relationship with cars? Not on your life.”

“I’ll have you know Mr Vael, that I’ve had the same car since I left Fereldan and it runs just fine. The benefits of having an excellent mechanic. She just has a bit of character, that’s all.”

“Character? Is that what they’re calling bullet holes these days?”

“Two jokes in under two hours? Why Mr. Vael, what am I to do with you?”

His grin only grew wider. “I guess I’ll have to stick around so you can figure that out.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter has some violent descriptions in it.

The air was cooler as they neared Starkhaven, the city benefiting from the Minanter River that flowed around it. Éowyn was truly surprised that she hadn’t melted into the leather seats of the car but then the thing was so brilliantly white that light just reflected off it, deflecting some of the heat.

She drummed her fingers on the armrest of the car door, mentally going over her conversation with Vael. Had she really flirted with the man? It would seem so. And even stranger, the man had flirted straight back. Maker’s breath, she needed to watch herself or she was going to get into trouble.

She and Carver hadn’t had many rules but there were three they had held fast to. One, try to stay away from asshole clients as they tended to not pay and were more trouble than they were worth. Two, never go anywhere unarmed. And three, never get romantically involved with a client. She had the first two solidly covered at present, the third was a little shaky.

Isabela had mocked the third rule often and loudly _“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of flirting, sweet thing,”_ she had said. _“In fact I think it’s vital to a person’s health to do so.”_

The problem was that Isabela’s line between flirting and sex was a bit blurry. Flirting came naturally to Isabela but then she liked flirting and it came in handy with her job as a singer at The Blooming Rose. She stood on stage and became that ideal for the patrons to lust after and she enjoyed being the center of attention. If she took advantage of that attention from time to time, well, that was her business, but she did it on her terms and if some moron tried to go farther than she was willing her friend was more than capable of shutting them down. Éowyn and Carver weren’t the only ones who followed rule number two.

Thinking of Carver put her in a sour mood and she ruthlessly shoved it and him aside. She had a job to do and she refused to be distracted by memories or the man sitting next to her.

Cresting over a hill Éowyn saw the city come into view. It nestled in the river valley like a jewel. Graceful bridges spanned across the river and buildings made of granite and steel speared into the sky, the morning sun glinting off the windows. It was definitely cleaner than Kirkwall, at least on the surface. The question in her mind was if the underbelly of Starkhaven was just as dirty as Kirkwall’s. In her experience, the more money a city had, the more dirt it had to cover up. Pretentious Varric had called it. Maybe he was right. People with money liked to pretend that their shit didn’t stink and it was patently obvious that Starkhaven had plenty of money.

“Well, it’s certainly pretty isn’t it?”

“It’s one of the oldest cities in the Free Marches, some of the buildings date back over three hundred years.”

“They seem to have survived the war pretty well.”

“We didn’t get as hard hit as Ferelden or Kirkwall did but there are still some scars. Geography and distance kept most of the fighting away though we did send soldiers and aid to Fereldan.”

 _Not enough_ , Éowyn thought bitterly before shaking it off. The past was the past, there was nothing that could be done about it.

The Jaguar slid through the streets, turning heads as they passed by. Even in a city as rich as this, the Jaguar stood out. So much for keeping a low profile.

“Do the people here know this is your car?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Some might but I doubt it. I haven’t spent too much time in Starkhaven since I was sent to the Chantry in Kirkwall. Though I have spent more time here in the last year trying to sort out the details of my family’s business and to see if there’s a way I can take it back from Goran.”

Éowyn sat up straight and snapped her head at him. “You’re thinking about taking back your family’s company? Don’t you think that was something you should have told me?”

“I didn’t see how it was relevant.”

Éowyn want to hit him. Was the man really that stupid? “ _Everything_ is relevant, Mr Vael. Every detail down to the dust mites on the floor. In order to do my job right I need to have all the information. Whoever sent you that note is involved and if they know you’re looking into taking the company back you can bet your ass the person who ordered the hit on your family does too.

“You promised me free access to everything. Who else knows that you’re looking to take the company back?”

“A couple of the board members, old family friends of my grandfather’s,” he said stiffly. “I’m not even sure that it’s possible for me to get the company back. Goran’s had it for three years.”

“All the more reason for the person controlling him to protect his position. Maker’s breath how could you be so stupid?”

“I don’t appreciate your tone, Miss Hawke.”

“You’re going to like it even less if I find out you’ve been hiding anything else from me. I don’t like being lied to.”

“I apologize for the oversight but I am not a liar,” he said, his voice hardening even further. He kept his face forward but Éowyn could see his jaw tighten, clearly trying to keep his temper under control.

“You neglected to reveal all information which is the same as lying in my book,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “Let me off at the next corner. I need to walk this mad off before my meeting with Mallory.”

“Miss Hawke, I--.”

“Stop the car, Mr Vael or I’ll stop it for you.”

Sebastian slowed as he pulled over to the curb. Éowyn didn’t wait for him to come to a complete stop before she shoved the door open and got out. A small traitorous part of her brain whispered that she was overreacting but as she stormed down the street, pushing her way through the crowd all she could think of was that he had lied to her. A small lie, a lie of omission, but still a lie.

In her line of business she expected people to lie to her, that’s what people did, but she hadn’t expected it from Sebastian Vael and that was stupid of her.

Taking a deep breath she glanced behind her to see Vael still idling at the curve, trapped in by traffic. Seeing the frustration on his face lifted her mood a little as she stepped up to the curb and hailed a cab. Sliding into the back seat she gave the cabbie the address to the guard house and closed her eyes as she sat back against the seat, willing her mind to clear and her temper to cool.

“You've the look of a woman with murder in her eye. Hate to be the sorry sod who pissed you off,” said the cabbie.

“Oh, he’s in one piece. For now anyway.”

The cabbie laughed and just shook his head. “I learned a long time ago to do my best to not piss off a lady. A lesson that was hard earned sorry to say.”

“Glad to hear that some of your species can be trained,” she told him only to hear him chuckle again.

“Oh aye, that we can though I will admit there are some of us who are a lost cause.”

Éowyn snickered at that. “You’re probably right about that. A lot of men are more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Would that include the one who gave you that shiner? Hope he got what he deserved.”

“This? This was from a moron who couldn’t hold his liquor, among other things, and blamed me for it. Bastard got a lucky shot in but he’s rotting in Kirkwall’s jail right now, hopefully reconsidering his poor life choices.” Éowyn grinned at the cabbie. “And yes, he got what he deserved.”

“Kirkwall, eh? Guessing he’s not why you’re wanting to go the the guard house.”

“No, have business there with Inspector Mallory.”

“Mallory? James Mallory?”

“That’d be him. You know him?”

“Oh aye. Jimmy, he’s a solid sort and fair, but he’s in the murder squad. Head inspector, in fact. You got trouble?”

“No more than I ever ask for. He’s solid you say, so he’s on the level then?”

“Oh aye, that he is. A bulldog too. Not one to let go of a case if he can help it.”

“You must know him pretty well to give such a glowing recommendation.”

“Oh aye, I should seeing as he’s my brother-in-law, my wife’s brother.”

“Well, it’s a small world isn’t it?”

“Guess so. You in trouble Miss?”

“Me? No, but if I have my way someone will be.”

The cabbie looked at her through the rearview mirror. “If you don’t mind me saying, Miss, you’re a bit scary. Wouldn’t want to get on your bad side.”

Éowyn grinned sharply, her smile almost feral. “I suppose there are those who would agree with you but I try not to be too scary. Bad for business.”

“What business are you in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh I dabble in many things but mainly I help people. My brother and I started a private detective agency a while back but I run it now that he’s gone.”

“A private detective? Well, you--, wait you wouldn’t be Hawke would you?”

Éowyn arched an eyebrow. She hadn’t thought her reputation had extended passed the Kirkwall city limits. “The one and only.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. You helped out a cousin of mine a while back, said you treated him fair and got back the property his no-good partner stole from him. Not too many in this world who are willing to help the little guy but you did.”

Éowyn shrugged. “I do what I can. Can be hard though in a shithole like Kirkwall.”

The cabbie gave her a sage nod as he pulled up the the curb. Éowyn peered out the window at the building that housed Starkhaven’s guard. It had a stark, utilitarian look that seemed out of place here in Starkhaven but very much looked like any other guard house she had seen. Anyone walking by would know it for what it was.

“Here you go Miss Hawke, delivered as promised. Tell Jimmy that Pete says hi.”

“Sure will Pete and it’s just Hawke. You can leave off the Miss part.”

Éowyn made to pull out cash to pay him but Pete just waved it away. “Your money’s no good here, Hawke. Consider it a thank you for what you did for my cousin.”

“Alright then. Thanks for the ride, Pete. Maybe I’ll see you around. Might need a ride again.”

“I mostly run here in the Central district, so if you’re in the area you can probably find me. You ride with me, you ride for free.”

“Well, never let it be said that I look a gift horse in the mouth, thanks Pete.”

Pete tipped his cap at her, a bemused look on his face as Éowyn left the cab. Éowyn smiled to herself as the cabbie drove off. The short interaction with him had done more to take the edge off her temper than she would have expected. She walked up the marble stone steps and into the guard house where she walked into a large open atrium where a statue of lady justice stood over everyone, her gaze fixed on an invisible horizon.

Éowyn stopped, dumbstruck, at the sight. And here she was hoping that there would be at least one spot in Starkhaven that wasn’t prone to pretension. People milled about, some with purpose, others not, but everyone had a sheen of slick on them she found disturbingly out of place in a guard house.

At least the desk sergeant looked somewhat surly as he glared down at a uniform who was trying to keep his charge, a young kid who looked like he had too much money and not enough to occupy him, from escaping. The kid kept trying to jerk his arm out of the uniform’s hand but the uniform kept a steely grip on him.

The desk sergeant just jerked a thumb over his shoulder when she asked for directions to the murder squad, not taking his eyes off the uniform and the kid. The kid, having now seen her gave her what she supposed he thought was a charming grin but was closer to a leer.

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s your hurry? What say you and me go get a drink? I won’t be here long.”

Éowyn brought herself up short and turned around. She stared hard at the kid, not breaking her gaze. “Kid, young and stupid is no way to go through life. Young you eventually get over, stupid is usually terminal.” She flicked her eyes over him. “And from the looks of you, you’ve got stupid embedded in you down to your marrow.”

The kid sputtered, indignation spreading across his face. “You can’t talk to me like that. Do you know who my father is?”

“Nope, and I don’t care. Here’s a tip kid. There’s going to come a day when Daddy isn’t going to be around to bail you out. Also, I am way out of your league.”

A satisfied grin grew her face as he swallowed hard and his face flushed red. The uniform didn’t bother to smother a laugh as he jerked the kid back into place. Considering her job done, Éowyn turned away and headed further into the building.

It was just so damned clean. Nothing at all like the guard house in Kirkwall with its stains of questionable origins and the stink of stale coffee mixed with humanity in the air.

“Looks more like a damn museum than a guard house,” she grumbled as she took the stairs, ignoring the curious stares she was getting from people. One would think they’d never seen a woman before.

Reaching the third floor she turned right and pushed through the frosted glass doors that marked the entrance to the murder squad. Here she found somewhat sanitized version of the murder squad room in Kirkwall. Here were the slightly rumpled detectives slurping down cup after cup of coffee while they interviewed witnesses and suspects. The voices were different but the overall tone was the same and she immediately felt more at ease.

“Help you? If you’re looking for the secretary pool, it’s two doors down.”

Éowyn mentally sighed. Was all of Starkhaven filled with sexist dicks?

“Can’t say that I have anything that needs typing at the moment, but thanks for the tip. I’m looking for Inspector Mallory.”

“The Inspector’s busy at the moment, maybe I can help you.”

Éowyn eyed the detective, wondering if she’d have to repeat her performance from downstairs.

“I actually have an appointment but if you want to let me into the records room so I can review some files that’d be swell.”

“Review files? What files would those be?”

“Files with enough dust on them that I don’t see how they’re going to be of any use but I promised Vallen I’d let her friend look at them,” interrupted a voice. Éowyn looked up, seeing a rumpled middle-aged man who had the look that he didn’t really give a fuck about anything. She recognized the type and wondered how close he was to retirement.

“All the same, Inspector Mallory, I appreciate you helping me and my client out.”

“Speaking of, where is your client. I guess I expected him to be with you.”

Éowyn couldn’t help the smirk on her face. “He’s probably trying to find a parking spot or something. Haven’t you people heard of public transportation here? We have a great rail system in Kirkwall.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of it but the city’s historical society keeps blocking any efforts to put one in. Something about “sullying our history” or some such bullshit. Like the daily flood of vehicles on the streets aren’t an eyesore,” Mallory grumbled, shrugging his shoulders.

“You do have quite a few pretty buildings here. They’re… curvier than the bunkers we have in Kirkwall.”

Mallory snorted. “Vallen said I’d like you. That woman is rarely wrong. Come on, I’ll show you those files, for all the good it’ll do you.”

“I won’t know until I look through them. I like to be thorough.”

“Vallen said that as well.”

Mallory led her through the squad room, ignoring the curious looks sent their way. She knew the minute that she and Mallory were out of sight the speculation on who she was and what files she wanted to look at would run rampant. They may be fancy cops, but they were still cops and speculation was part of the job.

“Not sure what you hope to achieve by looking at the Vael file. Pretty cut and dried what happened and we got the bastards who did the deed.”

“I’m aware but my client thinks it was more than a simple home invasion.”

“Yes, Mr. Vael’s suspicions are well known here. Don’t see as there’s any merit to them but when you lose your family like that, well, it can be hard to let go.” Mallory gave her a side glance. “Unless you have some new information about the case.”

“Not as such. When, if, he ever shows up here, he can inform you. Until then, I maintain my client’s confidentiality.”

“How much is he paying you?”

“Enough. Look Inspector, I figure if you’re good at something never do it for free.”

“Can’t say as I can argue with that. Here we are. It’s a bit dusty back here. Nobody’s touched these files in months. They should really be moved down to cold cases.”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow. “Cold cases? But I thought the Starkhaven guard here considered the case closed.”

Mallory shifted, shoving his hands in his pockets as he scowled at the room. “The higher ups do but it never sat right with me, what happened. The Vaels had pretty good security and everyone knew it. How a band of thugs like Flint’s would have the stones to do something like that has nagged at me since the day it happened.”

“If enough money is involved many people are willing to do what they otherwise might not.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Mallory reached up to a high shelf and removed one of the boxes. He stared at it for a second before setting it on the scarred wooden table that sat in the middle of the room. “This is what we have on the murders. Not sure what all you’ll find useful in here but maybe a fresh set of eyes can find something. Maker knows I’ve looked at this file enough until my eyes were crossed.”

“It’s all about looking for patterns, Inspector. Or sometimes the lack of a pattern.”

“I’ll leave you to it then. We have something resembling coffee in the breakroom if you’re so inclined.”

Éowyn turned a wry smile. “It’s somewhat of a relief to know that guard house coffee is universally awful.”

“At least down here it is. Can’t say the same for the higher ups. They have some fancy stuff from Orlais I hear.”

“Benefits of being in charge I guess.”

Mallory chuckled as he left the room. Éowyn stared down at the box, mentally preparing herself. She carefully pulled out the thick brown files and set them on the table, careful to keep them in order. Knowing how Flint usually operated she had a fairly good idea of what the crime scene photos would look like but it didn’t make looking at them any easier. Sitting down, she pulled a notepad out of her bag before flipping open the file and began to dig in, starting with the first on scene reports.

Pulling out the photos from the protective sleeve, she placed them next to her to have them easily at hand to look at when the report referenced them. She worked through the file methodically, taking notes as she went, quickly losing time as she delved into what had happened on that summer night three years ago.

The bodies had been discovered early the next morning by one of the day guards the Vael family had on staff. According to the coroner’s report the killings had taken place sometime between one and three in the morning. The day staff reported that the family had put on some fancy dinner for their nearest and dearest. One of the maids had stated that the last guest had left shortly before 11pm and that all non-essential staff were gone by midnight, leaving only the butler, a maid, and two night guards in addition to the family.

None had lived to see the dawn.

Flint and his gang had struck quickly, first taking out the guard patrolling the grounds and then the one in the house, both of their throats slit from behind. The butler and the maid had met the same fate; the butler found in a reading chair in his rooms, the pages of his book soaked in his blood. The maid in was discovered in her bathroom, white tiles turned red with blood, her water glass shattered on the floor.

The pattern changed with the eldest Vael son. Stewart Vael’s body was nearly unrecognizable. His body had suffered multiple stab wounds to the torso and face. The escalated amount of violence was surprising considering how quick and clean the murders of the staff were. It was almost as if it was personal, or was made to seem so. Defensive wounds marked the victim’s hands and arms but it hadn’t been enough to stop his attacker.

It was the same with the rest of the family, though only Stewart Vael’s body showed any signs of resistance. The rest of the family had been found in their beds, throats slashed and multiple stab wounds inflicted upon them.

Flipping to the coroner’s report on Mr and Mrs Vael and the other son she saw that they had determined the neck wound to be the fatal blow and that all the other wounds occurred either during death or post-mortem. It also stated that there had been more than one attacker.

Éowyn closed her eyes, picturing the crime scene in her head and trying to imagine the sequence of events as they happened. Getting rid of the guards quickly and quietly made sense, as did taking out the butler and the maid. It was the difference in how the staff was killed in comparison to the Vaels that nagged at her. Someone had been trying to make a statement, the question was what was the statement.

Leaning back in her chair, Éowyn pinched the bridge of her nose. Flint had been a vicious bastard and this wasn’t the first time she had seen the results of his actions but this seemed especially vicious even for him. It was too bad he wasn’t around to question.

There was something missing. There had to be. Flint operated out of Kirkwall. If this was a home invasion like the guard had concluded, why would Flint travel all the way to Starkhaven unless he was looking for something specific? There were more than enough ripe targets in Kirkwall for him to pluck. Suddenly the answer came so clear to her that she felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

“Someone from Kirkwall hired him.”

“You found something?”

The muscles in her back tensed when she heard Sebastian’s voice. Opening her eyes she found him standing a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face. He had stripped off his suit jacket down to his shirt and vest. His hair was slightly mussed as if he had run his hands through it more than once and then had tried to tame it back to it’s original style. Much to Éowyn’s amusement and satisfaction he had failed in that endeavor.

“I think so. Not sure how it got missed, or if it even was, but Flint operated out of Kirkwall and mostly kept close to home. That says to me that someone in Kirkwall hired him. Someone familiar enough with the gang structure there to know where to find someone like Flint. That to me says someone local.”

“Couldn’t someone from here go to Kirkwall to hire him?”

“I’m sure they could, but Kirkwall’s gang culture is… unique. They’re not overly fond of outsiders and they would consider someone from Starkhaven an outsider even though we’re all Free Marchers. So that says to me someone local and savvy enough to know who to ask.”

“How does one even know how to do such things?”

“Depends on the motivation and how serious they are about getting what they want.” Éowyn looked down at the file, staring at the black and white crime scene photos. “I think there’s more than enough proof here to indicate that whoever this person is, they were dead set on getting your family’s company. Whatever the cost.”

“Agreed. So what is the next move?”

“First? Lunch. I’m starving. Then if you’re still up for it, a tour of your family’s home.”

“Can I expect you to stay in the car the whole way there this time?”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Can I expect you to be straight with me and not lie?”

Sebastian moved forward, much more quickly than Éowyn would have expected the man to move. He slapped his hands on the desk, leaning across the desk. Éowyn refused to flinch, not allowing herself to be intimidated by him glowering over her. She’d had years of practice standing up to bullies with Carver, she could handle this man.

“For the last time, I did not lie to you. It was an oversight and I apologized. I didn’t take you to be a spiteful woman, Miss Hawke.”

“Oh, well now, I don’t like to think so but there are some who might. My brother for one, but I’m a big enough girl to accept an honest apology and you’re nothing but honest, aren’t you Mr Vael?

Sebastian’s mouth twitched as he pushed off the table. “I’d like to think so.”

“Look, I may loose my temper from time to time, especially when it comes to things I deem important but I don’t let it get in the way of doing my job if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I never questioned your ability-.” Sebastian stopped midsentence, his gaze dropping to the table and the pictures she had spread across it. Éowyn cursed as she gathered them up quickly, stuffing them haphazardly back into the file in a way that Inspector Mallory probably wouldn’t thank her for.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen these.”

Sebastian reached across the table, stilling her busy hands with his. His tanned skin had paled but he kept his expression neutral except for the slight pinch in his eyes. It always shows in the eyes, she thought as she looked up at him. His eyes were fixated on the top photo, the one of his father. Éowyn tried to shuffle it into the folder but his hand tightened on hers.

“Sebastian,” she said, not realizing that she was calling him by his first name. “You shouldn’t see them like this, you shouldn’t have this memory in your head.”

He finally looked up at her, his eyes so hot they were nearly blazing. “How is it any different than than what I was imagining? I knew their deaths weren’t easy, I knew that much and it was enough to have the most horrible images running through my mind. You can’t imagine what that is like.”

Éowyn stood up, carefully moving around the desk as he still hadn’t let go of her hand. “I can,” she told him softly. “Believe me I can, which is why I also know that seeing them like that is worse than anything your brain can cook up.”

When he didn’t answer, she took her free hand and turned his face to her, forcing him to look away from the photos. “You should remember them as they were in life.”

Sebastian still didn’t reply, instead he stared back at her with an intensity that gradually began to make her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t used to being scrutinized so closely and she found that she didn’t care for it much.

Something flipped in her stomach as he continued to stare at her. She pulled her hand back from his face, intending to put some distance between them but he simply grabbed it with his other hand and held it lightly against his chest. Éowyn’s breath hitched and seemed to stop somewhere in her chest. He was close, too close.

“We should go,” she said, taking a step back both physically and emotionally, collecting herself before turning back to the table to put the rest of the files back together and into their box. She stuffed her notepad into her bag, hoping that he didn’t notice the rough sketches she had made of the crime scenes. “I’ve been in here,” she glanced down at her watch. “Maker’s breath, almost three hours, and I’m finding that I need some fresh air.

 _In more ways than one_ , her traitorous brain said.

Shouldering her bag she looked at him, trying to quell the buzzing in her head. Cocking her head to the side, she said, “I know where I’ve been for the past three hours. Don’t tell me it took you this long to find a parking space.”

He still had that strange look on his face, that look that said he wasn’t quite sure to make of what had just happened. That was okay, neither did she but she was simply going to bury it so she didn’t have to think about it.

“No, not so long but I took your advice and gave you some time to cool off. I met with a friend of my grandfather’s who has been helping me with taking back the company.”

“Did you now? Do you trust him?”

“Of course I trust him, why wouldn’t-,” Sebastian paused, his mouth twisting in distaste. “Gideon is one of my family’s oldest friends. He stood up with my grandfather at his wedding. He’s the one sane voice of reason on the board of directors at Vael Consolidated. He would never harm my family, it’s not in his nature and if you knew him you would know that.”

“Then maybe I should meet him.” At Sebastian’s shocked look, she continued. “Look, if he’s the old trusted family friend you say he is, maybe he has insight into whoever is trying to destroy your family. So it only stands to reason that I should meet him. I’m sure you can set up a meeting for later today.”

“I, well, that is I’m sure he’d be agreeable to it, it’s just that…”

“Just that what?” she asked when he trailed off.

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll call him, see if he’s free this afternoon or evening.”

“Great. But right now I’m more concerned about lunch. What’s a girl gotta do around here to get a decent burger? I want something with actual cow and not dripping with stuff that has no business being on a burger.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “It’s a big city. I’m sure we can find something that can meet your exacting standards.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 06/03/15: So sorry for the delay in posting. Between work and this chapter not cooperating it took a while for me to get this to a place where I was happy with it. Hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Chapter 5

Éowyn stared down at her plate, a puzzled frown on her face. She had ordered a burger and it certainly looked like one but there were no fries accompanying it. At least not any fries she was familiar with. These looked orange and just… wrong. And that didn’t even address the other stuff on her plate.

“What the hell is this?”

Sebastian looked up from his plate with an amused look on his face. “That would be the burger you ordered.”

“I recognize the burger, at least what I assume to be a burger, but what the hell is this other stuff. These aren’t fries and what’s this other stuff doing here?”

“They don’t have sweet potatoes in Kirkwall?”

“What? No. Potatoes aren’t supposed to be sweet and that doesn’t answer my other question.”

“It’s still a potato, just a little different. That other stuff is a some type of cabbage salad I think. I’m not too fond of it myself.”

“Cabbage salad? That’s disgusting,” she said as she poked at it with her fork. Sebastian made a noncommittal sound as he continued eating his own lunch. Éowyn nudged the so-called salad further away from her burger lest it contaminate it. The fries she continued to give the side-eye. She didn’t consider herself a picky eater, especially considering what passed for Ferelden cuisine, but she knew what she liked and liked the comfort of familiarity.

She wasn’t too keen on the restaurant that Sebastian had picked either. Like everything else in this city it was too clean and she felt out of place in her old suit with the slightly frayed cuffs. Stuffing down the insecurity, she picked up her burger and took a hesitant bite.

“Sweet Andraste.”

Sebastian looked up from his pasta, an eyebrow raised. “Is something wrong?”

“No. Something is very, very right. Now shut up, I’m eating.”

She knew Sebastian was laughing at her but this was the best damn burger she’d ever had. Guess there was something to be said for using quality beef.

They ate in companionable silence and even though she was enthralled by her burger, Éowyn mulled over the information she had gained that day. Knowing that whoever had hired Flint probably lived in Kirkwall helped her out a lot as it would, hopefully, cut down on the amount of legwork she’d have to do. After living and working in Kirkwall for over three years, she had an intimate knowledge of the underworld community there and if she had to go poking around Starkhaven’s she’d have to start from square one.

“What connections does your family have to Kirkwall? Other than yourself that is.”

Sebastian took a sip from his glass of ice tea before answering. “My family has… had relationships with many of the prominent families in Kirkwall. The de Launcets, the Dumars, the Harimanns, and several members of the Merchant’s Guild as well. Most had an interest in Vael Consolidated in one way or another. None were really involved in the day-to-day operations as far as I am aware. I could look into it I suppose.”

“Could be worthwhile. Perhaps one of them wanted a bigger slice but didn’t have the resources for a bigger buy-in. Or maybe they saw your family as an obstacle they could get around financially and chose a more direct route.”

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a frown pulling down the corners of his lips. He stared across the table at her, his index finger tapping on the table. “I do not like the idea that someone close to my family may be responsible for their deaths.” He raised his hand when Éowyn started to respond. “But, I do realize that it is something I can’t ignore, no matter how unpalatable the idea is.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise you.”

“If anyone can, it’s you. I have faith that you can.”

Now it was Éowyn’s turn to shift in her seat. People having confidence in her abilities to solve their problems was one thing, but having absolute faith in them? That didn’t set well. There was too much potential for things to go wrong when that happened and she hated disappointing people.

Before she could respond to him, a shadow fell over their table. Looking up, Éowyn had to bite back a particularly salty oath. Of all the places to run into her mother this just had to be one.

“Éowyn, my dear, whatever are you doing in Starkhaven? I thought you never left the boundaries of Lowtown.”

“I go where the work is, Mother.”

“Yes, your work. I don’t suppose you’ll ever give up that useless endeavor of yours and take your rightful place in society.”

“I’m so pleased that you care about my well-being, Mother, but I’m happy where I’m at.”

“How can that possibly be? I swear, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were switched out at birth with a changeling.”

Éowyn was sorely tempted to tell her that she wished the same but managed to hold her tongue. Theirs had always been a contentious relationship but it had gotten worse in recent years.

“I didn’t realize you were prone to such flights of fancy, Mother. As for your question, I’m here on business.”

Leandra sniffed derisively before looking over at Sebastian. Éowyn watched with some amusement as her mother realized who he was and how her behavior could be perceived by a total stranger. Leandra’s jaw dropped, her mouth forming an ‘O’ as she tried to compose her thoughts. It was no surprise to Éowyn that Sebastian stepped in.

“I hired your daughter to help me on a family matter. She has been most helpful and I have every confidence in her abilities to solve the matters. She is quite brilliant.”

Éowyn flushed at Sebastian’s praise. She had barely scratched the surface as far as the case was concerned and was far from finding out who had ordered the hit on his family. He’d also managed to disarm Leandra and whatever derisive comment she had on deck. _Very smooth Vael_ , she thought. _Very smooth_.

“Yes, my daughter is very clever.” Éowyn knew to anyone else that it sounded like a compliment but to her ears it sounded false. Leandra had made it clear several years ago that she didn’t approve of Éowyn ignoring her status as an Amell and her usual response to her mother was that she wasn’t an Amell, she was a Hawke and she wasn’t about to change her lifestyle just because her mother wanted grandchildren.

“That she is indeed, Mrs Hawke.”

“It’s Amell, actually, Leandra Amell. When we came to Kirkwall, I reclaimed my family’s name and title. It had been dormant for years, you see, after my father’s death.”

Éowyn didn’t even bother to hide rolling her eyes this time. She shouldn’t be surprised anymore by the amount of stock her mother put in her lineage but it was a constant amazement. It almost seemed as if her mother cared more about long dead relatives than the ones still living.

“Leandra, darling, there you are. I had wondered where you’d gotten off to. Ah, Sebastian! I didn’t think to see you again so soon, my lad.” He looked over at Éowyn and his smile broadened even more. “And who is this lovely creature, my I ask?”

The man who stepped up to the table was so affable that Éowyn couldn’t take offense to him calling her a lovely creature. He looked like the stereotypical image of everyone’s grandfather: white hair slightly disarray but somehow looked natural on him, a cheery grin that was only outmatched by the twinkle in his eyes, and a tweed suit that he had to be roasting in but he showed no indication of such.

What on earth was he doing with her mother?

Sebastian stood and, much to Éowyn’s surprise, embraced the man in a fierce hug. It was so out of character for him, or at least from what she had experienced, that she was struck speechless.

“This, Uncle Gideon, is the woman I was telling you about earlier. Meet Éowyn Hawke. She’s assisting me on that matter we discussed earlier.”

“Ah, yes. Well, if you can bring some peace to the family, you have my wholehearted thanks in advance. Sebastian here spoke quite highly of you, though he didn’t mention how lovely you are.”

Éowyn flushed as she stood as well. The old man was a flirt, to be sure. She offered out her hand and he clasped it within both of his. “It truly is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawke.”

“Yes, well, thank you. _Uncle_ Gideon? I thought that…”

“Oh, it’s more of an honorary title than anything, my dear. Sebastian’s grandfather and I were like brothers and I was named Sebastian’s godfather when his parents brought him to the Chantry to be blessed by the spirit of Andraste. He’s a fine young man now though he was a bit wild as a child.”

“Uncle-.”

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed Sebastian. We’ve all had our times of rebellion. Your father included though he conveniently forgot about it when he took over the reigns of Vael Consolidated.” He turned back to Éowyn. “I’m sure your investigation will take up most of the rest of the day but if you find the time the two of you should come over to the house. I can embarrass Sebastian here by showing you photos of him as a child.”

“I’m not sure how much time I’ll have. I still need to get back to Kirkwall tonight.”

“Oh, nonsense. You can still make time for a drink.”

Éowyn looked to Sebastian for help and found none. He simply gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders.

“And you too, Leandra. We can make an evening of it.”

“Unfortunately I must decline. Quentin and I have plans for the theatre tonight and if I want to be on time I must leave shortly, but it was lovely to see you again, Gideon.” Leandra glanced at her watch. Éowyn noted it’s flimsy design, more appropriate for a piece of jewelry than a timekeeper, but it fit Leandra’s style perfectly. If she were to ever wear such a thing it wouldn’t last the day. “In fact, I should go now if I want to beat traffic.” her eyes slid over to her daughter. “You should really come by the manor sometime. I’ve gotten rid of that horrid Tevinter decor and found something much more appropriate.”

“I’m sure it’s lovely Mother,” Éowyn said, wondering exactly what “appropriate” meant in her mother’s mind. “My schedule is pretty busy but we’ll see.”

Leandra nodded stiffly before giving both Gideon and Sebastian a brilliant smile as she said her goodbyes. Éowyn had no doubt that the invitation was genuine but she had no intention of going to the Amell manor as long as Quentin resided there. Not alone anyway. There was something off about the man, she just couldn’t put her finger on it.

Éowyn looked up to see both men staring at her and she realized that they were expecting some response.

“I’m sorry, my mind wandered for a bit. What was the question?”

“Dinner, tonight. I’ll not have no for an answer,” Gideon declared, a beatific smile across his face. “We have much to discuss.”

Éowyn glanced at Sebastian and got the same shrug. What the hell, she thought. Perhaps the old man could help in her investigation.

“I suppose I can fit it in. I don’t have anything pressing in Kirkwall that can’t wait.”

“Excellent! I shall see you around seven then.” He made a slight bow before disappearing into the crowd.

“What exactly just happened?” Éowyn asked as she watched the older man walk away.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I believe he is attempting to match us up.” Sebastian laughed at her startled look. “He has good intentions, Uncle Gideon, but he’s always been big about family and ever since I left the Chantry he’s been, well, not exactly subtle about me settling down and starting a family.”

Éowyn frowned, unsure what to make of the situation and of her being dragged into some matchmaking scheme.

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“Does it bother you? His meddling?”

Éowyn chewed her bottom lip, not sure how to respond. She had dealt with her mother’s attempts at match-making for years, successfully putting aside one suitor after another, but this was different. Somehow it was different.

“I don’t know. Does it bother you?”

He stared down at her, his mouth somewhere between a smile and a frown. His hand came up and tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. Éowyn’s breath hitched and she felt her heart trip a beat as his finger trailed down her cheek, her skin tingling in its wake.

“I don’t know either,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering. She swallowed heavily as time around them seemed to slow and all she could see was his face and those too-blue eyes staring at her. Her brain shouted at her that this was ridiculous but it was muffled by the sound of blood rushing through her head.

An explosion of dishes crashing to the floor followed by cursing broke the spell. Éowyn blinked before taking a step back, her brain fully in control again. Mostly. Looking at Sebastian she saw that he hadn’t looked away from her, if anything the look in his eyes had intensified, calculating, and she got a flash of what he must have been like in his youth. Boy or man, he was dangerous.

“Well then, I suppose now is a good a time as any to go see your parents’ estate,” she said, attempting to change the subject and hoping to break some of the tension. She didn’t mind a bit of flirting, hell, they’d been doing it on the drive up from Kirkwall, but this was different. It was too intense for mere flirting.

Sebastian blinked, her words bringing him back to the reason why he had brought her here. She could see him shift gears, his eyes refocusing. He cleared his throat before plucking his wallet out from his jacket and laying several bills on the table. Éowyn tried not to be bothered by how easily he laid down the money.

“Either our meal was more expensive than I thought, or you just gave our server a huge tip.”

“A little of both, perhaps. Shall we? It will take us a good thirty minutes to get to the estate.”

“Thirty minutes? I thought the estate was in Starkhaven.”

“Oh, it is, just not in the city proper. It’s… well, you’ll see.”

Deciding to just go with it, Éowyn nodded her head. “Alright, lead the way.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 08/21/15: A short chapter here, I know. I had it part of a larger one but decided to break it up so I could post _something_. It's a bit of a breather for what's to come. Hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

It actually took closer to an hour to get to the Vael estate. Traffic played a part of it, it was a Friday so everyone was trying to get out of town, but it was more so that the estate was set up on a bluff overlooking the curving Minanter River. Éowyn’s first glimpse of it was towers poking through the treetops, the building itself hidden behind towering oaks.

Sebastian pulled into the driveway, stopping before an ornate iron gate, the Vael family crest emblazoned at the top. A small guardhouse sat just off to the side and as Sebastian slowed to a stop before the massive gate, a uniformed guard stepped out to meet them.

“Good afternoon, Master Vael, it is good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you as well Finley. All is well, I trust?”

“Oh, yes Sir, it is, thank you for asking. Everything is ready for you. You need anything, just ring me here at the guardhouse.”

“Thank you, Finley.”

Éowyn watched as Finley stepped back into the guardhouse and pushed the release for the gate. As it slowly opened, Éowyn got the distinct impression that she was about to enter a different world.

Sebastian drove the Jaguar slowly up the tree-lined lane, she couldn’t call it a driveway, it was too grand for that. She could only catch glimpses of the estate as they advanced but admittedly she was distracted as she surveyed the immediate area.

“Plenty of cover here for someone to enter unnoticed,” she murmured.

“The wall surrounds the entire estate and it is over ten feet high, with iron spikes along the top.”

“Any wall can be breached if one tries hard enough.”

“True enough, I know from experience.”

“Snuck out a time or two when you were a child, did you?”

“Yes, in my reckless youth I found these walls to be particularly restricting.”

Éowyn didn’t say anything as they rounded the bend and the estate came fully into view. She couldn’t help it, but her jaw dropped in astonishment. The pictures she had reviewed earlier that day didn’t do it justice.

“This isn’t an estate, it’s a bloody castle.”

Sebastian choked back a laugh. “I suppose some might call it that.”

“There are turrets, Sebastian, _turrets_. That makes it a castle in my mind.” She turned to him. “I don’t think it really hit me until just now that you are nobility, bred to the bone.”

He spared her a glance. “I gave up that life a long time ago.”

Éowyn looked at him in disbelief. “You may have given up the title, but it’s still a part of you. It always will be. The fact that you want to take back Vael Consolidated to make sure that it’s run properly says that.”

“Yes, well, I suppose you have a point.” He drove the rest of the way in silence, pulling up in front of the main doors. Éowyn half expected a full staff to be meeting them on the steps but they were the only ones there. She stepped out of the car, craning her neck up to look at the turrets. The building was elegant, shaped with gentle curves and graceful arches, nothing like the blocky estates in Kirkwall. It was truly like stepping into a different world.

“Did you really grow up here?”

“Yes, though it seems like a lifetime ago. Last time I was here I was just seventeen.”

“Is that when they sent you to the Chantry?”

“Ah, no. They first sent me when I was sixteen. I didn’t… settle well the first year I was there. I’m ashamed to say that I ran away a couple of times.”

“And still they sent you back? That’s barbaric.”

Sebastian shrugged. “It’s the way things were done in my family, and, to be honest, I made that decision for them quite easy. As you may have guessed I was not the most obedient of children.”

“That still doesn’t excuse what they did. You shouldn’t force someone into something they don’t want to do.”

“It ended up being the best thing for me. I found a sense of peace in the Chantry that I never found with my family. I can’t remember a time when my parents weren’t disappointed with me in one way or another. They always seemed to find fault with me,” he said, his gaze growing distant as the memories of the past came flooding forward.

Éowyn reached out and hesitantly touched his arm, unsure if that was the right response. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I know what it’s like to have family members disapprove of you.”

“Yes, well then. You’re here to see the estate, not help me wallow in the past.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that delving into the past was part of the job but she restrained herself. The pained look on his face stopped her from saying anything more.

“Of course,” she said softly, removing her hand from his arm. Clearing her throat she forced herself to focus on the case itself rather than the man standing next to her. “If I remember right one guard was found near the at the kitchen entrance to the estate. I couldn’t find anything in the report on how they managed to get past the guard at the gate. You said the wall extends around the estate,” she paused, thinking. “Where did you go over the wall when you snuck out?”

Sebastian’s brows crinkled together as he thought back. “It was usually the south wall. The trees are thicker there and some of the branches hung over the wall. It was an easy feat for an agile teenager.”

“And easy enough for a band of mercenaries to exploit I would assume.” She walked forward, following the line of windows to the southeast corner to where she knew the kitchen entrance was. Looking across the grounds, she could see the copse of trees that ran along the south wall. Yes, plenty of cover there for a mercenary band to scale the wall and gain entrance to the estate.

“Should have had dogs,” she murmured to herself.

“What’s that?”

Startled out of her thoughts, she looked up at Sebastian, reminded again of just how tall he was. “Dogs. Train them right and they can be a good deterrent to keeping unwanted visitors out.”

“My mother hated dogs. Said they were smelly, disgusting creatures that slobbered all over you and had no sense of decency. She preferred cats.”

Éowyn snorted. “Obviously she never met a Ferelden mabari. Never a more loyal breed will you ever find. I had one as a child. Ghost was, well, he was amazing and the best friend I ever had. Cats on the other hand, cats are murderous little furry assholes who think that the world revolves around them. They’re similar to Orlesians in that way.”

She walked away before he could respond, using the map in her head to go to where the first guard had been found. Sebastian trailed behind her, his hands in his pockets. Éowyn blocked him out as she brought up the crime scene pictures in her mind. The guard had been taken from behind, his throat cut.

“They spread out so as to cover more ground. They almost certainly scouted the grounds first. I wouldn’t be surprised if one or more of them had gained entry onto the estate in the guise of a delivery man or laborer. Having the plans to a building is one thing, but seeing it in person gives it a reality you can’t get from pen and paper.

“The guard never saw them coming. They knew his route. One of them came up from behind and slit his throat. Used a knife because it’s quiet, guns would draw unwanted attention and might cause their quarry to flee or raise alarm. No, they wanted to be quick and quiet.”

She advanced to the kitchen entrance, gave the door a try and was surprised to find it open. Slanting a questioning glance at Sebastian, she paused, waiting for a response.

“I had them open the house in anticipation of our arrival. I figure it would be easier.”

Éowyn just shook her head before refocusing. “The one who killed the outside guard came in this way. If they were smart they would have split off into two groups. No way to know exactly where the other guard was, better, safer to spread out.”

Pushing through the door, she entered the kitchen. Black and white checkered tile covered the floor. A large island stood silent in the middle of the room, it’s top bare of any kitchen implements one might normally find there. They must have packed or sold everything away after the inspectors had released the house.

She moved through the room, trying to put herself in the place and mindset of Flint’s men. They would have moved quickly. Once they had gone over the wall they were on a clock, needed to complete their mission as quickly as possible without getting caught, before anyone could raise the alarm. To give the man credit, Jonas Flint had trained his men well. Evidence pointed toward a three man team and they had killed an entire household within thirty minutes.

The house was quiet, disturbingly so. You could tell that no one had lived there for many years. It felt… haunted. Not as in the ghosts that go boo behind you, but more like you could feel a presence, something hanging in the air. You could tell that something bad had happened here. As Éowyn moved through the house the feeling only got stronger.

The servants’ quarters were off to the left of the kitchen. Out of the way from the main house but still within easy reach should any members of the family should require their assistance. The butler’s and maid’s rooms were across the hall from each other. Here again, Flint’s gang had struck quickly. Without having actually been there it was hard to tell whom they had killed first but Éowyn would be willing to bet they had gone after the butler first. They would see him as more of a threat than the maid. On the other hand, maybe they had gone after them at the same time. Less chance for either to raise the alarm if either heard anything.

Walking down the hallway she saw several more rooms. Enough for a full staff and yet there were only two live-in domestics at the time of the murders. For a family that was as rich and socially conscious as the Vaels that seemed somewhat out of place. She filed that information away to think on later. She wasn’t sure if it was important to the case but it was definitely interesting.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to learn anything more here, Éowyn turned around and ran into Sebastian, his hands briefly touching her waist to balance her before pulling them back. She had been so caught up in recreating the murders in her head that she had pretty much forgotten he was there and she certainly hadn’t realized that he had been that close behind her.

“Oh, sorry. I-.”

“Forgot I was here. Yes, I figured as much. You seemed to slip into another world. How do you do that? Put yourself in the killers’ minds?”

Éowyn shrugged, pushing an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t really know. It’s just something I’ve always been able to do. Comes in handy when investigating.”

“But it can’t be easy having all those images in your head. How do you cope with all that?”

Éowyn thought back to the whiskey bottle stored in her bottom desk drawer, remembering the times she had tried to drown out, unsuccessfully, memories she would rather forget. Pushing it down, she gave him a flippant smile.

“Jazz music and occasionally punching an idiot. You’d be surprised how cathartic that can be.” She made to slip around him but he simply moved in front of her. The hallway was narrow enough that she couldn’t easily move around him.

“You’re crowding me Vael.” She knew her voice was testy and that by reverting to his last name she was trying to put some distance between them.

“You do that a lot, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Deflect with humor. Why?”

“I’m just a funny girl, I guess. Most people find me hilarious.”

“Éowyn.”

“Don’t Éowyn me. Let me by so I can walk through the rest of the house. Then we can get out of here.”

Sebastian looked like he wanted to continue to argue with her but then he stepped back and let her pass. She heard him expel a heavy breath as she walked by and she tried to stuff down the prick of guilt that rose in her. It couldn’t be easy for him to be here.

“You don’t have to follow me around in here, you know,” she said over her shoulder as she continued her way back into the main area of the house. The hallway opened up into the main foyer and she was struck again by the grandeur of the place.

“I’m fine. I need… I need to see this.”

She stopped in the middle of the foyer and turned on him, her annoyance at his questions behind her coping mechanisms shifting to annoyance at his stubbornness.

“From everything you’ve told me, this was not a happy place for you. Why would you want to revisit it? Why put yourself through this? What purpose does it serve?” She couldn’t believe how angry she was getting. Not anger at him exactly, more anger over his insistence on putting himself through unnecessary pain.

“Because despite everything they are still my family and they deserve justice. Whatever bad memories resurface is inconsequential to that.”

Éowyn through up her hands in exasperation. “Ugh, fine. Do what you want. I’m not your keeper. Just stay out of my way.”

With that she walked away, her shoes clacking against the hardwood floor, the noise echoing throughout the empty house. She found the billiards room easily enough. The billiards table was still there though covered in a heavy sheet to keep dust away. This was where Stewart Vael had met his end. His body had been found sprawled across the billiards table, a broken cue still clutched in his hand. The man had put up a fight, though it hadn’t mattered in the end.

What bothered her was that his death was messy and because of that, noisy as well. Why hadn’t the remaining family heard the fight? From what she had seen of the estate so far, it’s design was fairly open with wide archways and doors. The walls were thick though, sturdily made. Sturdy enough to have lasted almost a hundred years and it wore those years well. Sturdy enough, she supposed to muffle the noise of a man’s violent death.

The billiards room had two entrances, one from the foyer, one from what was apparently called the “music room” but what in reality was a place where the lady of the house held her fancy salons for her fancy friends. It was something her mother did, something that she herself detested. Éowyn shook off those thoughts, knowing they were unproductive and had no place here.

She walked around the table, imagining the attack in her mind. The attack had surely come from behind, but something must have alerted Stewart Vael to his presence, why else would his death have been so messy?

Evidence pointed that there was only one attacker involved with Stewart Vael’s death, indicating that the other two had been making their way to the rest of the family. She flipped through her mental file, remembering that the eldest brother had military training. Why send one person to take out the biggest threat in the house? It didn’t make sense.

“Stewart led one of the units we sent to Ferelden. His unit was ambushed. They used mustard gas. It left him with nerve damage and he lost hearing in one ear. It’s why he was sent back.”

“I saw none of that in the medical reports.”

“That’s because my father buried it. Couldn’t have the scion of the Vael family appear weak, could we? No, they hid it.”

“One would think being a war hero would carry a lot of clout.”

“Not if that war hero was deemed damaged. My parents put status ahead of family, remember? And the decision to send soldiers to Ferelden wasn’t wildly popular. Many objected to the idea, said what was happening in Ferelden wasn’t our problem, but it was determined it was politically expedient to send a few token units to show that Starkhaven cared about what happened outside its borders.”

“It’s always about maintaining appearances, isn’t it?” She focused back on the billiards table. They must have known about Stewart Vael’s injuries and thought they were serious enough that they only needed to send one person after him. Judging from the state of the room in the photos she saw and the blood splattered across the room, Stewart Vael had still been capable enough to defend himself. It was just too bad that it hadn’t been enough.

It all pointed to the fact that whoever had ordered the attack, it was someone who knew the Vaels intimately. Knowing where to go over the wall, how many guards there were, how many of the domestics lived in-house… all of that was easy enough for any outsider to figure out if they spent the time preparing. But knowing about a physical ailment the family kept secret? That meant someone close to the family. She just had to figure out who.

She walked back out into the foyer and contemplated the curving staircase that led up to the upper areas of the house. Would she really find anything of more use up there? Find any other clues as to who murdered Sebastian’s family? She already knew from the crime scene photos and the coroner’s report that the remaining members of the Vael family had died in their beds, badly, and poking around empty rooms wasn’t going to get her any closer to the person who had wanted them dead.

A corridor off the left of the staircase caught her eye. It led further back into the house and it was pure, morbid curiosity that pulled her toward it.

“You don’t want to go upstairs?”

Éowyn paused, flicking her gaze up quickly to the upper floors before settling back on Sebastian. Despite his efforts to hide it, she could see that the stress of being here was getting to him.

“I’m not going to learn anything new by going up there. Flint’s mercenaries didn’t escape through an upper floor window. They left a different way.” She nodded her head down the hallway. “What’s back this way?”

“The formal dining room, another sitting room, a conservatory garden. The poolhouse is back that way too, as well as the…” Sebastian trailed off, his cheeks flushing slightly.

“As well as the what?” she prompted, moving down the hallway ahead of him.

“The rest of what my father liked to call his own personal training area. You weren’t wrong when you called this place a castle. They used to have a training ground back there for soldiers, most of it’s still there actually. My grandfather tried to keep as much of the original building and outlying areas as intact as he could. One of the many things over which he and my mother butted heads.”

“A training ground? You’re kidding me.”

“I’m quite serious. The archery range is still there. My grandfather was quite insistent that it stay.”

Éowyn came to a full stop and turned around. “You have an actual archery range in your childhood home? Does that mean you know how to use a bow and arrow? Who uses a bow and arrow in this day and age?”

“I’ll have you know it takes a definite amount of skill and dedication to use a bow properly. You have to constantly practice your form and discipline. It’s not something you can just pick up willy-nilly.”

“Really?” she drawled, arching an eyebrow. “That sounds an awful lot like boasting, Sebastian. Now you’re going to have to show me this skill and dedication you speak of.”

“Ah, well, I doubt there’s any equipment left. They packed up most everything.”

“We won’t know unless we look, will we? Unless… you’re not afraid I’ll show you up, are you?”

“You can use a bow?”

“I’ve been known to dabble. It annoyed my mother when I was a child, so it was enough for me to take it up as a hobby. So what’s it going to be? You going to put your money where your mouth is?”

For the first time since she had met him, Éowyn saw a gleam of excitement in his eyes, as if the idea of a competition drew out long buried competitive instincts.

“Like I said, it’s doubtful there’s any equipment left but if there is I’ll have you know that I was the captain of both the biathlon and the run archery teams of my school.”

“Run archery team? I didn’t think they did those anymore.”

“They don’t so much nowadays, most schools focusing on the biathlon, but it was still an active summer sport when I was a child,” he said as he led her toward the back of the house, enthusiasm sparking in his eyes. “Both take incredible skill and endurance. You have to keep your heart rate low and your breathing even to hit a target while on the run.”

“Imagine tracking a deer at the same time. A moving target’s always more difficult to hit.”

That got his attention, causing him to look back at her with a stunned look on his face.

“What? I didn’t always live in Kirkwall or have the glamorous life I do now. We were quite poor growing up in Ferelden and sometimes our next meal depended on if a hunt was lucky or not.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“How could you? We’ve only known each other for a few days. Besides, it wasn’t all bad. It was time I got to spend with my father without my siblings carrying on. Bethany was always too timid to kill an animal and Carver, well, I’ve known wrecking balls that were more subtle than he is.”

“You don’t talk much about your brother.”

Éowyn scrunched up her nose. “There’s not much to say, really. A job went bad and he decided that he’d rather work for the Wardens than stay with me and keep the business running. We were always at odds with each other. I think he thought that I overshadowed him in someway or that our father favored me over him. I don’t know. I could never figure out how my brother’s brain worked. All I know is that he left me hanging while he went off to play war hero.”

She could hear the resentment in her voice. Carver had left almost a year ago and she heard from him only once, just after he’d been inducted into the Wardens. She knew he sent letters to their mother and she tried not to be bitter about it but it was difficult.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Carver got into a snit after a case ended badly. He always did have a rather large stick up his ass.”

“Still, it can’t have been easy, running a business all on your own.”

“I make do. The reputation we built before he left helped. Jobs come steadily enough that I’ve managed to keep the bill collectors at bay.” For the most part, she thought, conveniently leaving out the part that without his rather large check she’d been close to having to sell the house. She probably should anyway, it was too big for just her.

“Anyway, that’s old history, not worth thinking about. Now, you promised to show me the archery range.”

“That I did. It’s back this way,” he said, letting the matter drop.

As Éowyn followed him through the wide hallway she knew without a doubt that this was the way Flint’s men had left the estate. It made the most sense. It was hidden from the front of the house and anyone who might be coming up the driveway, as unlikely as that would seem.

Sebastian pushed open a door that opened into the conservatory. Éowyn was surprised to see the garden still blooming and in good health. It was one of those formal gardens with rows of flowers in straight lines. Roses were cultivated to what was probably prize-winning levels.

“Someone’s been maintaining this,” she said, walking amongst the rows. She reached out and touched one of the roses, it’s soft petals caressing her fingers.

“Yes, I couldn’t just let it go fallow. My grandmother started this garden and my grandfather kept it up after her death.”

“Are you telling me you come here to pull weeds and prune back deadheads?”

“Ah, no, not really. I hired a gardener as I’m living in Kirkwall, they maintain the grounds too.”

“I see,” she murmured, letting her hand drop from the rose. Flowers had been something Bethany had enjoyed. They were always in the house, even when they moved to Kirkwall. Éowyn wasn’t sure where she found them but they had always brightened the place, made it seem more like a home rather than someplace they lived.

“Come, the range is back this way,” he said, startling her by grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the garden. It was almost like this was the place he felt least comfortable in. Which was strange considering how he talked about his grandfather and how close they had seemed. With his hand gripping hers, she noted the rough callouses again, the connection finally clicking in her brain.

“Archery wasn’t something you left behind when they sent you to the Chantry. You’ve kept up with it over the years.”

Sebastian stopped as they entered the archery range, looking at her with a puzzled frown on his face.

“What?”

“Your hands. The callouses are still there and not worn down from years of disuse. So naturally, you still practice.”

“Well, yes. Grand Cleric Elthina thought it was a good exercise to help focus my mind and calm the rage that ruled me back then.”

“Wait, you’re in that deep with the Grand Cleric?” Éowyn whistled. “I didn’t realize your connections were that extensive.”

“It’s not like that. She took a special interest in me when I arrived at the Chantry in Kirkwall. Without her guidance and support I doubt I would have stayed.”

“Hmmm,” was all that Éowyn could say in response. Her relationship with the Chantry and its rulers was tenuous at best. When she had first arrived in Kirkwall, she had been horrified by how the refugees were treated and how little support they received from the Chantry. It was such a different Chantry than the one she grew up with in Ferelden that it was hard to reconcile the two.

“Grand Cleric Elthina disagreed with my parents’ decision to turn me over to the Chantry. She told me that joining the Chantry should be a choice, not something forced upon a person.”

“And yet you stayed.”

“Not at first, I left once, determined to make my own fate, but I went back. Elthina, she provided me with counsel and guidance that I rarely found elsewhere. It was… comforting.”

“Hmmm,” she said again, walking forward to the archery range. It, like everything else in the house and grounds was well maintained. It was slightly creepy in a way, like the house was waiting for someone to occupy it. She had doubts that anyone would want to live there considering what had happened. Then again, there were those who found the macabre enticing and actively sought out such places.

Looking over the grounds she could easily spot where Flint’s men had left. There was good cover from back here, the buildings would hide them from anyone approaching the house and ground from the front. They would have moved quickly now that their job was done; eager to get their payday.

Sebastian led her to the far corner of the grounds where the archery range was. It was quite extensive with targets spread out over different distances, offering varying levels of difficulty. There were even a few that hung suspended, moving slightly in the gentle wind that flowed around them. Along the east wall ran a gallery of sorts, a waist-high wooden fence separating the viewing area from the range.  It was quite a set-up and Éowyn couldn’t help but be impressed.

“There’s another range further back on the grounds that my grandfather set up to allow me space to practice for run archery meets.”

Éowyn made a noncommittal noise as she wandered across the range, taking everything in. Cabinets that had once held bows and arrows stood empty, a slight coating of dust covering the wood, dimming it’s shine. Sebastian had been right in that someone had removed all the equipment and she couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed. She hadn’t realized until just then how eager she’d been to test her skills against him.

Being on the Vael estate was like walking into another world. Her mother’s home in Kirkwall was quite lavish, miles beyond what she had experienced growing up. This, this was something she could have never imagined and she had a pretty good imagination.

But despite all its finery and lavish grounds, this had not been a happy place for Sebastian. Just went to prove that while wealth and privilege can make things easier on a person, not amount of it could fill a hole where love was supposed to be.

She was about to suggest that they should leave when something caught her attention. She wasn't sure what it was, but it was enough to where the hairs on the back of her neck rose. Frowning, she surveyed the area around them. There was nothing there, nothing that she could see anyway, but she could feel it.

“I think that--.” The remainder of her sentence was cut off by the rattle of gunfire. Several different guns if she wasn’t mistaken. Grabbing Sebastian by the arm, she pulled him behind a wide column that marked the beginning of the viewing gallery, shoving him further down while she held her position behind the pillar. Bullets smashed into the wall behind them, some coming perilously close to hitting either of them. Swearing, she pulled her gun out from its holster.

Wooden splinters showered over them as the attackers continued to fire at them. She figured there were at least two shooters, probably three, based on the frequency and spread of fire aimed at them. There was a pause in the barrage, Éowyn took the opportunity to lean around the pillar, quickly sighting one of the attackers and fired twice, She took grim satisfaction when she heard a pain-filled scream and watched the body fall to the ground before she ducked back behind the pillar. Violent cursing filled the air as the other two finished reloading and resumed firing.

She glanced over Sebastian to make sure he was staying out of the line of fire only to find him staring back at her, his face hard and his eyes hot. There was that anger again, closer to the surface this time.

“Still think that you haven’t made a target of yourself by telling all and sundry about your plans to take back your family’s company? Cause I’m thinking you’ve gotten someone’s attention judging by our new friends over there.”

Sebastian glared at her, clearly not appreciating her flippancy. Éowyn responded with a cheeky grin before concentrating on the two remaining shooters. They would be more cautious now that they didn’t have the element of surprise on their side and that they were down one. Still, sending three men to kill two people? It seemed like overkill, or, more likely, someone really wanted to make sure that Sebastian died.

Bullets continued to puncture holes in the wall behind them. Where they lacked in precision they certainly made up for in enthusiasm. Éowyn was thankful for that but she still cursed under her breath. She didn’t like being pinned down like this; she could only wait until they paused to reload before she would risk poking her head out again. It would help if she knew what they were carrying. Judging by the rate of fire they were using some kind of handgun.

Éowyn peered around the corner of the pillar, hoping to catch sight of the attackers. Her view was partially blocked by the column she crouched behind but she could see their shadows darting back and forth.

“Either these guys are really stupid or really stupid,” she grumbled as she pulled back just before two slugs hit the column, the wood splintering and scraping across her cheek.

“What?” Sebastian asked.

“These guys aren’t pros. Thugs hired from the docks I’m guessing.”

“Does it matter? They have more guns than we do.”

“It’s not always the number of bullets that wins a fight. It’s how you use them that can make a difference. That first idiot wouldn’t have gotten shot if he’d been behind cover. The other two seem slightly smarter but if they keep shooting blindly at us like this, they’ll run out of bullets eventually.”

“It’s the eventually that worries me.”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t gotten a client killed yet. I don’t intend to start with you.”

“Well, that makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. Do you have any ideas of how to accomplish my not dying?”

Éowyn gave him an arched eyebrow. “I’ve got a few. None that you’ll probably like though.”

“What do you--.” Éowyn cut him off with a quick kiss on the mouth. His shocked look was worth it and allowed her to scramble out from behind the column without him stopping her. Gun held at her side, she ran at a crouch to the other wall blocking the archery range off from the rest of the practice yard. Her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and listened for movement. She heard more than saw the gunman to her right. Following instinct, she leaned around the corner and fired two shots. The first one missed as he dove for cover but the second one nicked his lower leg, causing him to squeal in pain.

“Dammit,” she muttered as she pulled herself back behind the wall. She had winged him but he was still in play, and there was still the other guy. She was also down to two bullets, and like an idiot she hadn’t brought spare ammo with her. Two bullets, two gunman. She either had to be really lucky with her next two shots or she’d have to go hand-to-hand. The first would be easier, but the second would probably be more fun.

Pressed against the column she looked back over to where she had left Sebastian. To her horror he was crouched next to the edge of the fence, peering around the pillar at the end. She waved him back, silently urging him to stay put. If he got himself killed…

A blast of gunfire interrupted her thoughts, forcing her to refocus on the threat. She needed to end this, and fast.

She could hear one of the gunman calling out to his partner, the Nevarran accent almost too thick for her to understand but the angry tone got the point across. He was not happy about how this was turning out. If she hadn’t been down to two bullets she would have been amused. Sometimes being underestimated was a good thing.

“Fuck this,” she said, spinning as she stood up. The gunman she had winged was propped up against a wall. He raised his weapon when he saw her, but Éowyn had already fired, one of her two remaining slugs slamming into him. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the last remaining gunman come at her. He was moving too fast for her to aim properly and her shot just grazed his shoulder. Éowyn dropped her revolver and adjusted her footing, leaning backwards when the first hit came; his wild right hook just missing her chin.

Shifting her weight, Éowyn moved quickly, jabbing her fist into his side, following it up with her own right hook. Pain ran up her hand and arm as her fist connected with his jaw. Maker’s breath, was it made of steel?

Changing tactics, she put her weight on her left leg and delivered a hard kick into the man’s solar plexus. She heard the air rush out of him as she kicked him again, knocking him backwards. He fell into a fence, the wood shattering under his weight, but he moved faster than she anticipated, hooking his leg behind hers, making her land on her ass. He was on top of her before she could roll away, his hands circling her neck. Éowyn pushed up at his face with one hand as she reached out to try to grab one the broken pieces of wood from the fence. Her fingers just grazed the edge of one of the pieces, close enough to touch but far enough away to make it impossible to grab hold of.

Éowyn dug her fingers into the man’s windpipe in an effort to make him lessen his hold on her enough so that she could get out from underneath him but he had skin as rough as druffalo. Black dots were starting to form in her vision when something whizzed above them, the object grazing her attacker’s arm and it was enough to get him loosen his hold enough so that she could grab the chunk of wood and slam it into his head. The Nevarran screamed in pain as blood trailed down his face and dripped onto her. Éowyn hit him again with her make-shift club, pushing him off her before she rolled away from him.

Gulping in fresh air, Éowyn scrambled to her feet just as the Nevarran did. He made to rush at her when something flew past her ear and pierced the Nevarran’s shoulder. The man flew back from the force of the shot, landing flat on his back and clutching at his shoulder. Éowyn spun around, fighting the brief wave of dizziness that hit her to find Sebastian standing about fifteen feet away, bow in hand and arrow notched.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fairing warning, Hawke gets a little mean at the beginning of this chapter. You could say she took the red option on the dialogue wheel.

Éowyn continued to stare at him, not realizing her mouth was gaping open. He had yet to lower his bow, keeping it aimed at the Nevarran lying in the dirt behind her. She could hear the man whimpering behind her but all she could focus on at the moment was Sebastian.

“Seriously, are you kidding me? I thought you said they stored all the weapons somewhere else.”

Lowering the bow slightly, he said, “I took the chance that they didn’t know where I had hidden my grandfather’s bow and fortunately for both of us they missed it.”

“Why would you hide--, nevermind, it’s not important.”

Éowyn looked over her shoulder at the man writhing on the ground. His face was covered in blood and his nose was almost certainly broken. He clutched at his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. The arrow was firmly embedded in the joint and looked like it would take some effort to remove it.

Turning around fully, she approached the man on the ground. Crouching beside him, she looked at him thoughtfully. He was swearing in Nevarran and from what little she knew of the language, none of it was complimentary.

“Looks like you’re in a bit of a pickle there, pal. Why don’t we make a deal, you tell me who hired you and I’ll see about getting that arrow out of you.”

“Fuck you, you Fereldan bitch.”

Éowyn tsked. “Now, that was very rude. You shouldn’t be rude to someone who’s offering to help you. All I want is information. No need to be nasty.”

The Nevarran spit at her, the globule of spit and blood just missing her face and landing on her shoulder. Éowyn made a disgusted face as she wiped it off. The suit was pretty much a total loss as it was but spitting on her was just gross.

“And the rudeness continues. You know, I’m already a bit sore after you and your pals decided to try to kill us. Now I’m moving beyond sore and into pissed off. Who hired you?”

When he just glared at her, Éowyn sighed. Reaching out she gripped the shaft of the arrow and twisted it ever so slightly. His scream was so high pitched that it hurt her ears. She stopped twisting the arrow but kept it loosely in her hand.

“Who hired you?” she asked again, keeping her voice level; shouting wouldn’t do any good in this instance. When he didn’t answer, she twisted the arrow again. His scream this time was just as loud, and if possible, even higher pitched. When his eyes rolled back in his head, Éowyn released the arrow, looking at him in disgust. Standing up, she wiped her hands on her ruined pants before placing them on her hips. She nudged the Nevarran’s body with her foot but he remained unconscious.

“Well, that was less than helpful,” she said before, probing her neck carefully. It was definitely tender and she was sure that bruises were already starting to form.

“Was that necessary?”

Éowyn looked up at Sebastian, not realizing he had walked up to her. His lips were pressed tightly together. He was staring down at the unconscious man before them but Éowyn got the feeling it was taking everything he had not to look at her.

“They were trying to kill us. I don’t know about you, but I kind of take that sort of thing personally.” She slanted him a glance. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with me shooting at them.”

Sebastian remained silent. She could sense some internal struggle going on and guessed that his quest for justice was warring with his Chantry background. She sympathised in a way, it couldn’t be easy, having two sides of yourself acting in direct opposition to each other, but that wasn’t something she’d had to deal with too often. Her life up until now hadn’t allowed much room for doubt. Did she struggle with some decisions? Most definitely, but sometimes the choice you made was the best of a bunch of horrible ones. She didn’t like killing but if it was the only choice that would keep her and others alive that was a burden she was prepared to carry.

So why was she suddenly feeling guilty?

She was about to speak again when the sound of footsteps racing up behind them rang through the air. Éowyn spun around, shoving Sebastian behind her, making ready for another attack. When Finley rounded the corner, shotgun in hand and a panicked look on his face, some of the tension leaked out of her.

“Master Vael! Are you alright? I heard the gunfire all the way up at the gate. I called the guard right away. They should hopefully be here soon. Are you alright?”

Sebastian placed his hand on Éowyn’s shoulder, stepping forward so they even side-by-side. “Yes, Finley, we’re fine, though Miss Hawke might need some medical attention.”

“I also requested they send an ambulance, Master Vael. I… I didn’t know what I would find when I ran back here.”

“I appreciate the concern but I’m fine, I don’t need an ambulance.”

Sebastian turned to her, his gaze dropping to her neck. “You already have bruises, Éowyn. It’s not going to kill you to be checked out.”

“I’ve had worse,” she muttered. Looking down at the still unconscious Nevarran. She had the urge to kick him but resisted. It was frustrating knowing that the man might have answers as to who was behind the Vael family murders and now that the guard had been called it was unlikely that she would get those answers from him.

“We should restrain him,” she said. At Sebastian’s raised eyebrow, she continued. “Yes, I realize he’s unconscious but he’s not going to stay that way and we don’t know for how long. Finley, you wouldn’t happen to know if there is any rope lying around?”

“I can check, Miss Hawke. Straight away.” Finley glared at the Nevarran lying on the ground before hurrying off toward a small building, shotgun still gripped in his hands.

“He’s quite loyal, isn’t he?”

“Finley’s been with the family for as long as I can remember. I suspect he knew I was sneaking out over the wall back in my hell-raising days.”

“Felt sorry for you, did he?”

“Perhaps. Once my behavior got to the point where I was causing them embarrassment, my parents weren’t exactly subtle in their disapproval.”

“Huh,” she responded as she walked over to one of the other shooters and began going through his pockets, hoping in vain that maybe there was a clue on his person as to who had hired them. Nothing. She checked the other body. Still nothing. Moving back to the surviving member of the attackers, Éowyn methodically went through his pockets as well. Again nothing. Éowyn huffed in annoyance. Even their clothes were non-descript, something you could find in any department store.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the Nevarran’s gun lying just a few feet away. Walking over to it, she crouched down to inspect it, careful not to touch it. It was a newer model, much newer than the revolver she carried. It was a design she was unfamiliar with, probably from Orzammar, one that had a reloadable clip that held twelve rounds as opposed to her six-shot revolver that she had to manually reload. Seeing the half dozen expended clips lying across the yard, she decided they were damn lucky the Nevarrans weren’t better shots.

Éowyn stood up as she heard Finley approaching. She bent down to retrieve her revolver and return it the the holster resting at the middle of her back, adjusting her jacket to fit over it. She sighed as she looked down at her suit. Sure it hadn’t been in the best condition before today with but it had fit well enough and the jacket hid the holster she kept at her waist.

“Here you go, Miss Hawke. Want me to get him up?”

Éowyn pursed her lips, contemplating the Nevarran. Sebastian’s arrow was still embedded in his shoulder, his shirt caked with blood. Sighing, she stepped forward. “Yes. Lean him up against that post for me. I’ll get his hands.”

She made quick work of tying the man’s hands together, looping the rope several times around his wrists. Even if he hadn’t been injured, he’d have a hard time trying to get out of those bonds. She had just stepped back when she heard the sirens. Listening to the sound, she guessed that there were no less than five squad cars. Apparently the Vael name still commanded some amount of respect and a sense of urgency. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes since the shooting had started. It was quite the response time.

Éowyn leaned against a pillar, resting her head back against the wood as she waited to the guard to appear. Now that the adrenaline was fading from her system, all the aches and bruises were starting to make themselves known, especially the ones around her neck. What she wouldn’t give for a couple of aspirin and a shot of whiskey.

“Here.”

Éowyn opened her eyes, finding Sebastian standing in front of her, holding out a handkerchief. She looked down at the handkerchief and then back at him.

“You’re bleeding,” he said simply. When she didn’t move to take the handkerchief, he stepped forward and carefully blotted her cheek, his other hand gently tilting her chin upwards. Éowyn watched him warily.

She shouldn’t have kissed him.

It was stupid and impulsive but she had been caught up in the fight and the adrenaline caused her to do something she wouldn’t have under different circumstances.

Probably wouldn’t have.

If she really thought about it, it wasn’t really a kiss. It had been too quick for it to really mean anything.

And she was over-analyzing it and that needed to stop. What the hell was wrong with her?

Before either of them could say anything several guardsmen poured into the training yard with Inspector Mallory in the lead. Éowyn wasn’t too surprised to see him considering their conversation earlier that day but it was interesting to see that he was first on scene.

“I see you’ve run into a bit of trouble, Miss Hawke.”

Éowyn smirked as she pushed away from the column and went forward to meet him. “I guess that’s one way to put it. Nothing like a couple of Nevarran thugs to brighten a person’s day.”

“Nevarrans you say? Interesting.”

“Well, at least one of them was. Can’t really say as to the other two. They’re not really in a position to say much of anything anymore.”

Mallory grunted as he surveyed the yard, his eyes narrowing as he took in the damage before turning back to her. “Quite a mess.”

“Being shot at is rarely tidy.”

Mallory gave her the once over. “Looks like you were in a bar brawl more than a gun fight.”

“I had to get creative after I ran out of bullets.”

He gestured to the arrow embedded in the Nevarran’s shoulder. “That’s definitely creative.”

“I’m afraid that I can’t take credit for that. You have Mr Vael here to thank for that.”

“Really? Interesting,” he said, crouching down to inspect the wounded Nevarran. “He pass out from the pain?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Éowyn said, avoiding Sebastian’s gaze. Dammit, she refused to feel guilty about it, even if she hadn’t gotten any results. Mallory merely grunted in response as he stood up, making way for the medic.

“They say anything?”

“Besides swearing at me in Nevarran? No. Bullets flying through the air impeded conversation.”

“Excuse me, but Miss Hawke could use a medic.”

“I don’t need a medic, Sebastian, I already told you that.”

“The man had his hands around your throat, you should at least have them check you out.”

“They’re just going to tell me to ice it and take a couple of painkillers. Nothing I wouldn’t do anyway. Stop mother-henning me.”

“Stop being difficult and maybe I will.”

Mallory looked as if he wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not at their interaction and cleared his throat. “We’re going to need to take your statements regardless, so it can’t hurt for them to take a look at you.”

“Listen, I’m not some fragile flower who’ll disintegrate in a light breeze but if it’ll shut the both of you up, fine, I’ll talk with the medic. Frankly I think he has better things to do right now than look at some bruises.”

“You’re forgetting the cut on your face.”

“It’s just a scratch, I doubt it’ll scar.”

Éowyn spent the next thirty minutes giving Mallory a rundown of what had happened while the other medic poked and prodded at her. She tolerated the prodding, to a point, finally shooing him away when he tried to place a bandage on her face. Sebastian stood next to her, his hands fisted in his pockets, his scowl deepening as she described her fight with the now arrow-pierced Nevarran.

“So you think this is connected with the attack on your family three years ago?” Mallory asked Sebastian.

“Miss Hawke believes so and I agree with her. What cause would people have to attack a member of the Chantry? Former member,” he amended.

“You’d be surprised. Not everyone’s a fan of the Chantry, Mr Vael, but given the history here, I’m inclined to agree. Especially if you’re poking under rocks. If they didn’t see you as a threat then, they certainly do now,” Mallory paused. “I would suggest that you hire a bodyguard until this is all over. Not to impunge on your skill, Miss Hawke.”

Éowyn waved him off. She knew her limits, even if she didn’t always follow them. “If Mr Vael wants some extra security I won’t begrudge him that, in fact I might know of a couple people who could fit the bill,” she said, privately thinking that if someone else was babysitting Sebastian it would free her up to pursue her investigation. Having him around was a distraction.

“I do not need nor want a babysitter,” said Sebastian.

“Now who’s being a stubborn ass? I can’t be with you all day and night and still investigate your case.”

Éowyn watched with interest as Sebastian’s cheeks flushed, in annoyance or embarrassment she couldn’t tell and he walked away before she could determine which. Sighing, she stood up and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. The loose bun had fallen apart during the fight and she didn’t have the energy or see the need to pin it back again. What she really wanted was a hot shower, a couple of aspirin, and a shot of whiskey.

She watched as a couple of guardsmen went through the yard, taking pictures and collecting shell casings, which brought a thought to her mind. “You’re not going to give me any grief if I don’t turn over my weapon, are you? I can tell you right now that only six of the bullets are mine and most of them are taking up residence in two Nevarrans. I not too keen on going back to Kirkwall without my gun.”

“It’s against standard procedure. Normally we’d keep it and give you a receipt for it while it sits in an evidence locker for months on end but perhaps I can make an exception this once.”

“I’d appreciate it,” she paused. “Do you need anything more from us, Inspector? Unless you’re going to let me sit in on your interrogation of that Nevarran, I’d like to head back to Kirkwall tonight.”

“Ah, I don’t think that’s advisable, sitting in on the interrogation that is, but if he gives up any information I know where to find you,” he paused, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “Or know someone who knows where to find you.”

Éowyn snorted. “Yes, I suppose Aveline would be able to track me down if pressed.” She stuck out her hand. “Thanks for letting me take a look at those files, Inspector.”

Mallory took her hand, giving it a brief shake. “Glad to be of help. Also glad to have the money I owed Vallen cleared off my slate. That woman is a vicious Wicked Grace player. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she cheats.”

“Aveline Vallen cheat? You’d sooner see the sun fall from the sky before such a thing were to happen.” Éowyn glanced over at Sebastian. He had moved several feet away, his back facing them, hands still fisted in his pockets. She wasn’t quite sure what to do with him. What had started out as a job had quickly escalated into something else.

Mallory noticed the direction of her gaze. “Good luck with that. I have a feeling that you’re going to need it.”

“Yeah, me too,” she muttered as she walked over to Sebastian. “You ready to get out of here? Mallory’s done with us for now and I’d like to get back to Kirkwall before dark.”

“You just want to leave? What about the Nevarran? You don’t want to question him?”

“He’s in police custody now and as accommodating as Mallory has been, he’s not willing to let me sit in on the interrogation. Besides, the docs are going to want to take out that arrow first. Who knows what condition he’ll be in after that.”

“So you’re just going to give up? What if he knows something?”

“I didn’t say I’m giving up,” she said, annoyance filling her voice. “Mallory said he let me know if he gets anything useful from him. I’m not going to find anymore answers here in Starkhaven. Whoever’s behind all this isn’t here, Sebastian. They’re in Kirkwall, so that’s where I need to be.”

“You forget that we promised to have drinks with Uncle Gideon tonight.”

“Considering what just happened, I think your uncle will forgive us if we take a raincheck.”

“On the contrary, he will be most displeased if we leave without a word.”

“Then call him and tell him something came up. I’m sure he’ll understand. I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly up to socializing right now or rehashing today’s events. I’m tired and I want to go home.”

“You said you were fine,” he said, turning to face her fully. His eyes flicked down to her throat  before focusing on her face. A day’s worth of stubble shadowed his jaw, making his blue eyes stand out even more. Worry was written across his face, worry she wasn’t exactly comfortable with.

“I _am_ fine, I just don’t want to go.”

Sebastian searched her face, looking for what, she didn’t know, but she knew the minute he acquiesced.

“Alright. I’ll go call him then. I’ll meet you at the car,” he said, giving her one last careful look before walking away, skirting around the guardsmen who were putting the two dead Nevarrans into body bags.  

Éowyn released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as he walked away. For a moment there she had thought he would insist on going but apparently he was that seemingly rare version of men that actually listened when a woman said no. It was rather refreshing.

She left the training yard, picking her way through the house. Her mind turned over the day’s events. What was supposed to be a simple fact-finding venture had turned into a bloody mess including a run-in with her mother and a shoot-out with Nevarran thugs. Éowyn had the feeling that this case was only going to get messier.

Perhaps she should have listened to Varric and let the whole thing alone.

A smarter person would probably walk away; especially after getting shot at and nearly strangled to death, but she had given her word. All she needed was a shower and some sleep in a bed instead of at her desk.

When she reached the car, she didn’t so much as sit down as slump into the seat. Part of her was tempted to crawl into the backseat but she resisted the urge settled for resting her head against the doorframe and closed her eyes for a few moments.

Shaking it off, Éowyn pulled her bag into her lap and pulled out a file. She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for, having been through the file dozens of times she doubted that she had overlooked anything but there was always a chance.

There had to be a connection between the Vael family and Kirkwall somehow. It was there, she knew it, she just had to find it. If it wasn’t in the files that meant she had to hit the streets. There were a couple of places she could think of off the top of her head where she could dig for information.

“Ready to go?”

Éowyn looked up as Sebastian’s shadow fell over her. The whirling red lights from the guard cars flashed over his face. Taking him in for the first time she noticed how rumpled and dirty his suit was. Combined with the growing scruff on his jaw and his mussed hair he looked entirely way too dangerous for her comfort.

“Yes. Were you able to smooth things out with your uncle?”

“To a point, yes. He’s not too happy about us leaving Starkhaven. It took some convincing to keep him from rushing down here. He’s quite concerned.”

“I suppose he has cause to be, considering everything.”

“Yes, considering everything, he does. I think we can expect him to harass Inspector Mallory until they get some answers.”

Éowyn made a face at that. On the one hand it was convenient to have someone here in Starkhaven to keep a close eye on the situation, on the other it wouldn’t do to for him to breathe down Mallory’s neck. The guard tended to get testy about things like that. Sebastian must have read the look on her face, for he said, “Don’t worry, Uncle Gideon knows which buttons to push and which ones need a light touch.”

She made a noncommittal sound as she pulled her legs into the car. Sebastian closed the door after her before walking around to the driver’s side. Éowyn watched him as he moved. There was a grace of movement there, something smooth that she could never grasp. She knew how to move quietly and quickly when she needed to but she knew it was a poor imitation of what she observed in him. Perhaps if she had been more serious about the dancing lessons her mother had forced her and Bethany to take. Bethany had loved dancing and took every opportunity to practice, while she on the other hand always felt clumsy and awkward. Granted she hadn’t put much effort into it but it hadn’t stopped the tiny kernel of envy that rose it’s head whenever she saw how effortless Bethany had made it seem.

The sky took on a greyish hue as they drove south back to Kirkwall and clouds began to block out the sun. That suited Éowyn just fine as it matched her mood. Most of the ride was spent in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

The Kirkwall gates loomed over the entrance to the city, a remnant of the city's distant past when walls and the city's soldiers were the only things keeping enemies at bay. They were nothing compared to the giant chained statues that guarded the city's harbor but they still made a statement to any who dared to enter Kirkwall. The statement being that if you weren't born here your presence was less than welcome.

Unlike some of the other cities in the Free Marches, Kirkwall had been not only resistant to the influx of war refugees from Ferelden, but some citizens were outright hostile toward those who needed help most. Éowyn had been on the receiving end of that hostility when they had come to Kirkwall nearly three years ago and it was something that was never too far from her mind. Even her uncle Gamlen had been less than charitable when they had arrived but that had more to do with the fact that he had squandered her mother's inheritance than any ill will toward foreigners.

Grey clouds hung heavy over them as Sebastian drove through the city but they held onto their burden, waiting for the right moment to release it. With her luck it would be when she was walking from the office to her house. The day had gone much different than she had expected and having the skies pour down on her would be a perfect way to end the day.

It hadn't been a complete loss. She had gotten some answers looking at the case file on the Vael murders but those answers had only posed more questions. Someone knew Sebastian was looking through take back Vael Consolidated.  Someone knew he had hired her to look into the murders. That someone was well connected and well informed and they weren’t afraid to kill. They had gotten away with it once and had no qualms about doing it again.

The big question was, who had tipped Sebastian off? Someone had sent him that note. What their motives were was anyone's guess but if she were a betting person she'd say that guilt played a factor in all of this.

"Éowyn, did you hear me?"

The car had stopped without her realizing it. They were sitting at an intersection not too far from the building that held her office. That she hadn't noticed was a testament to how smooth the Jaguar ran and how deep in thought she was.

"What?"

"I was asking for directions to your house."

"Just drop me off at the office. I can make my way from there."

"Don't be ridiculous. Just give me the address."

Éowyn was too tired to argue so she rattled off the address, telling him which streets to take. It was late for enough to where the streets weren't too crowded with traffic so they made good time. More than one head turned as the Jaguar glided through the streets and Éowyn hoped that Sebastian remembered the way back up to Hightown. She didn't live in the worst area of Lowtown but it wasn't the greatest either and seeing a car like this would make more than one thief take an interest.

As he pulled up in front of the house, Éowyn looked at it with a critical eye. The single-story bungalow had definitely seen better days but she and Carver had done their best to maintain it. Something that was harder to do now that he was gone.

Gathering her things, she turned her gaze to Sebastian. He was looking past her at the house and she tried very hard not to feel defensive about where she lived. Not everyone could rely on trust funds and inheritances to pay the bills.

"I'll keep looking into the Kirkwall connection. I don't know when I'll have any information for you. It may be a few days. I'll let you know when I find something." She didn't wait for his reply as she exited the car, digging into her bag for the house keys. She was nearly to to the door when she heard him call her name. Turning around she found him only a few steps behind her and making up the remaining distance quickly.

"You were just going to leave, just like that?"

"I'm not leaving the city or anything. Just going home. Like I said, if and when I find something I will let you know."

She turned away from him again, shoving the key into the lock but before she could open the door she felt his hand on her shoulder.  

"You know, it's been a kind of shitty day and you're getting in the way of me and a shower. What other request do you have that can't wait until later?"

"You kissed me."

Éowyn was grateful for the dim light for she could feel a flush rising on her face. Damn her and her sometimes impulsive nature.

"Yes, that. I suppose I should apologize for that. It was quite unprofessional of me. It won't happen again I can assure you."

"What if I wanted it to happen again?"

Éowyn could only gape at him. Was he being serious?

"I do realize that it crosses a line, one that we shouldn't cross but I'm having a hard time staying on the other side."

He stepped closer, his hand moving up from her shoulder to cup her cheek, careful to avoid the cut there. Éowyn held her breath as he closed the gap between them even more. This couldn't be happening. She shouldn't be letting this happen but she found herself leaning into him all the same.

It was soft, almost hesitant at first. His lips were warm against hers and that warmth spread through her faster than she expected. She leaned into him, her hands resting on his chest, a small thrill running through her when she felt his rapid heartbeat matching her own. His other hand snaked around her waist to pull her closer, his fingers splaying across her back. A small sigh escaped her when he lightly tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth and suddenly she wanted more.

Her fingers tightened on his shirt, gathering the fabric into tight balls that would surely leave his shirt wrinkled. Their breaths mingled and Éowyn felt something shift within her as he moved his lips over hers, his tongue tracing across her bottom lip. Her eyes had fluttered shut at one point, leaving her with her remaining four senses and he overwhelmed them all. The sounds and smells of the city faded away leaving only him.

She uncurled one hand from his shirt and wove her finger through his hair, pulling him closer. Their noses bumped when she changed the angle of the kiss, trying to take it all in. Maker, he knew how to kiss. It had been a while since she’d been kissed but she couldn’t think of a time when she’d been kissed like this.

Éowyn pulled back slightly, bowing her head so that his lips skated up her cheek to rest on her forehead. They stood like that for several moments, saying nothing, just holding each other. The wind picked up and blew her hair in her face. Sebastian leaned back, pulling the errant strands away from her face. The porch light shown down over his face, revealing his pupils to be full and dark with only a thin ring of that vivid blue shining around them.

“Holy shit, I didn’t think Chantry boys could kiss like that.”

Sebastian simply raised an eyebrow. “I think you have plenty of evidence supporting that I wasn’t always a “Chantry boy” as you put it.”

“Oh, I know, but, I just didn’t, I mean… wow.” At his chuckle, she gave him a sharp look. “Don’t let that go to your head. The male ego is already inflated more than it should be.”

“It’s you that has--.”

“Hawke? Is everything alright here?”

Éowyn looked over Sebastian’s shoulder, suddenly realizing that he had her pressed up against the door. The lights on her street were dim but they revealed enough to show a lanky blonde with grease stains on his pants and shirt and a perplexed look on his face standing on the walkway.

“Anders. Ah, hi. I was just… saying goodnight,” she said, stepping out from Sebastian’s arms, finally noticing the chill in the air now that they were gone.

“Huh. Is that what they call it now?” he asked, sticking his hands in his back pockets. Éowyn heard Sebastian give a soft snort behind her and she had to resist the urge to elbow him.

“Not that I’m not glad to see you Anders, but what are you doing here?”

“Dropping off that heap of metal you call a car. Got her all patched up for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I could have just as easily picked it up in the morning.”

“Figured it would have a better chance of making it home in one piece if I brought it here.”

“Disparaging my driving again?”

“No, just your inability to stay out of a gunfight,” he said.”

“You say that as if I get in a fight every day.”

Sebastian made a strangled noise behind her. She shot a glare over her shoulder, daring him to say anything.

“Maybe not everyday, but enough to where you provide me with a somewhat steady income.”

Éowyn grimaced at that, wondering just how much the repair bill was going to be this time. She estimated that it was going to take a huge chunk of the downpayment Sebastian had given her.

That thought sobered her. He was her client. And she had kissed him. Twice now. Maker, she was an idiot.

As if to prove her point, she felt Sebastian’s hand at the small of her back just under her gun holster, resting there lightly.

“Ah, anyway. This is Sebastian, we’re… I’m helping him out with a few matters.”

Anders’ face gave away nothing but Éowyn knew that questions were bubbling up in him. Not that he’d say anything, not right now anyway. She was sure that she’d get interrogated the next time they were alone.

“Yeah, well, anyway. Here are your keys. Stop by the shop tomorrow and I’ll give you the bad news.” Before she could say anything, he tossed the keys at her and she snatched them out of the air, frowning at his retreating form. Strange. Anders was usually a friendly person with a quick joke. She’d never seen him act that rude before.

“What did he mean by bad news?”

“The repair bill for my car, most likely,” she answered, a frown still marring her face. Shaking it and Anders’ strange behavior off she turned back to Sebastian and found herself at a loss for words. He simply looked at her, as if he was waiting for her to say something.

“Well, then.”

“Yes.”

“I apologize for Anders’ behavior. He’s normally quite nice. Not sure what’s up his ass.”

Sebastian looked as if he had something to say about that but decided to keep it to himself. His hand was still on her waist and it felt like a brand.

“I should take my leave. You’ll let me know when you find anything?”

“I said that I would and I keep my promises.”

“I’m beginning to see that.” He leaned forward and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips before stepping back. “Have a good night, Éowyn.”

She watched him as he walked back to his car. He gave her a small wave before getting in and driving away.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching as his taillights disappeared into the night but it was definitely longer than she would like to admit. Things had just gotten ten times more kind of complicated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets a little bit darker in this chapter for Éowyn because I'm an asshole who likes to torture her characters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter.

 

 

Éowyn had gone to bed the night before pleasantly numbed by a couple of aspirin and the memory of Sebastian’s kiss. She’d been tempted to down the aspirin with a slug of whiskey but changed her mind at the last moment and switched to milk. The mere fact that it hadn’t spoilt while languishing in her icebox was a miracle in of itself. Merrill would be so proud of her.

She’d been so exhausted after the previous day’s events that medicating herself and stripping down to nothing and shrugging on a nightshirt was about all she could handle before crashing into her bed, falling asleep almost immediately. She had been certain that after what happened with Sebastian on her porch that she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all but it pulled her under almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

What she hadn’t been able to process while awake, her brain worked on it while she slept. She found herself back on the porch, Sebastian looking down at her, his blue eyes seeming to glow in the dim light. This was trouble, _he_ was trouble. She knew she should keep a professional distance between them but she was drawn to him, unable to resist.

He was leaning down, his lips just a fraction of an inch away from hers when something bright flashed in the sky. Éowyn jerked back, slamming her eyes shut in defense of the bright light. Less than a second later, thunder roared around her, but it wasn’t a natural thunder. It was a loud booming sound preceded by a sharp, piercing whistle. Opening her eyes again, she saw that her house had disappeared, as had Sebastian. In fact, she found that she wasn’t in Kirkwall at all. Instead of sunbaked buildings, she was surrounded by a broken landscape, smoke and fire filling the sky.

Éowyn staggered back as she realized where she was. Lothering was burning. The stench of death and ash filled the air. Bodies of people she knew lay strewn about, their unseeing eyes staring up into the smoke filled sky. When rumors first came of the enemy’s army marching north, several had fled, but some had stayed, building shelters under their houses and gardens. Their preparation had been for naught. There had been little to no warning before the planes began their bombing run and only a few made it to their shelters before the world exploded.

_“Éowyn…”_

A voice whispered across the ruins. She shouldn’t have been able to hear it but it was as clear as if the speaker had been standing right next to her. Éowyn looked wildly around her, unable to find the source of the voice amidst all the screams and chaos.

 _“Éowyn,_ ” the voice whispered again, this time clearer, more familiar. Éowyn ran in the direction she thought the voice was coming from, tripping over fallen rubble and feeling guilty as she passed the bodies of the fallen. She should have been able to do more. They knew an attack was imminent but they had lingered, foolishly hoping that it wouldn’t really come.

They all paid dearly for that foolishness.

_“Éowyn.”_

The voice was suddenly behind her. Spinning around she saw their old house in Lothering, the roof collapsed in and black smoke pouring out. She could see the orange flicker of fire through the holes, but it wasn’t the house that made her legs turn to lead. In front of the building stood a group of townspeople all huddled together. In the center of them, standing just in front of the others as if to protect them stood Bethany. Several feet away stood a pair of soldiers in black uniforms, guns raised, fingers pressed against the trigger, shouting unintelligible words.

_“Bethany, no!”_

Her sister turned to her, her gaze filled with anger and fear. Soot and blood covered her but no amount of grime could disguise the fire in her eyes.

_“You’re too late. You are always too late.”_

Before Éowyn could take another step the soldiers opened fire, bullets piercing their captives, their bodies jerking as if controlled by invisible strings. She tried to rush forward, to stop them from shooting, but strong arms grabbed her from behind, stopping her.

_“They’re gone, Éowyn. You were too slow and our sister is dead. It’s your fault she’s dead.”_

She fought out of the hold, spinning around and slamming her fist into Carver’s face. Blood spurted from his nose but the hard, unforgiving look remained. She swung at him again but his shape shifted, his face morphing into something else, something that had no name. It gripped her by the throat, lifting her into the air. Éowyn kicked at it as she clawed at it’s fingers. Spots grew in her vision as the thing spoke to her.

 _“Death. Death follows you and you bring it with you. Death is your only constant._ I _am your only constant.”_

Images flashed in front of her eyes. More dead bodies, more burning cities. Face of friends empty of life. The thing’s hand tightened around her throat as she tried to scream.

_“You should just give in. You can’t help anyone. You can barely help yourself.”_

Éowyn managed to pull one of the thing’s fingers loose and spat in it’s face.

“Fuck you.”

The thing hurled her away, her body slamming into a wall. Éowyn tried to sit up and the thing stood over her before she could move and placed its heavy foot on her chest, the weight of it crushing her. She tried to push it off, but in her weakened state, her hands simply slide off its boots. Éowyn could feel her ribs snapping one by one as the giant pressed harder down on her. Breath came harder to come by and her vision began to blacken.

Dimly she saw the giant lean down, the shadows lifting from its face to reveal something that would haunt her daytime hours.

_“I will take everything you love and then I will take you.”_

Éowyn screamed and hurtled awake. Sweat dripped from her body, pooling in the curves of her elbows and knees, soaking the sheets around her. For several seconds she could still feel the giant’s foot on her, crushing the life out of her. Her throat was raw, more raw than it had been from when the Nevarran had tried to strangle her. But the Nevarran had been just a man. What she had seen in her nightmare was something much worse.

Her breath came out in ragged gasps and she struggled to find her balance. She stumbled out of bed, her legs not quite steady under her as she made her way into the kitchen. The whiskey bottle was still sitting on the counter where she had left it. Without hesitation or thought, she unscrewed the cap and drank straight from the bottle. The liquid burned as it slid down her throat and in retrospect, numbing herself with alcohol was probably not the best idea, but at the moment it was the only thing that could dim the roaring in her head.

Lowering the bottle, she set it unsteadily on the counter. Her balance still not quite there, it tumbled onto its side, golden liquid pouring out and spilling across the counter. Anger burst through her as she swiped at it, sending the bottle flying across the kitchen. It crashed into the wall just next to the sink, the glass exploding, sending shards flying everywhere. Éowyn stared blindly at it for a moment before nausea rolled through her stomach.

She found herself racing to the bathroom, emptying the recently drunk whiskey from her stomach. The retching went on long after the contents of her stomach was purged. She sat there for a while, her cheek resting on the cool porcelain of the toilet. She wasn’t sure how long she stayed there but it was long enough for the sweat on her skin to dry, leaving her skin chilled. Standing up, she pulled off her sweaty nightshirt before crawling into the shower. The old water pump protested as she cranked the handle and ran the shower as hot, hotter, as she could stand it.

Hot water sluiced over her as she sat in the tub and tried to stop shivering. The nightmare clung to her and she had to force herself to remember that Bethany had not died like that, not like that. The blitz had left a lasting injury and a sickness that eventually took her, but she had not been murdered in cold blood.

Though some days it felt like it.

She sat there long after the water went cool and reluctantly pulled herself out of the tub. Her hands still shaking slightly, she pulled on her robe and made her way back into her bedroom. Éowyn stared at her bed for several moments before finally realizing that she couldn’t sleep there, not for the rest of the night anyway. Returning to the living area, she pulled an old afghan around her and sank into the couch.  It wasn’t until she was still that she let the tears come. The fell in steady streams down her face and continued even as she passed back into sleep. This time the dreams stayed away.

***

Something was pounding, loudly, around her. Éowyn warily cracked open an eye, uncertain she wanted to face the world after the night she’d just had. The blanket was wrapped tightly around her like a cocoon, one that she was unwilling to leave. Her head pounded as if she had drank an entire distillery. She felt hollowed out and wanted nothing more than to pull the afghan over her head and shut out the world, but the pounding on the door made that impossible. It was barely eight o’clock and someone already had a bug up their ass.

Éowyn tossed the afghan off, staring angrily at the ceiling as if it was it’s fault someone had invaded her sleep. Swearing, she sat up and tried to collect herself before she stomped over to the front door, ready to punch whoever was on the other side.

“What?!” she snapped, opening the door with more force than was probably necessary. Once she saw who was on the other side, she almost slammed the door back shut.

“What? _What?_ You have the nerve to ask me what? What did I tell you about going to Starkhaven? Don’t cause a ruckus, to be discreet. Does this bloody look discreet to you?”

Aveline shoved the paper at Éowyn as she stormed in, her cheeks flushed red. She stood in the middle of the living room, her arms crossed over her chest and murder in her eye.

Éowyn glared at her before opening up the paper, trying to ignore the pounding in her head. There on the front page, above the fold screamed a headline that caused her fingers to tighten around the edges. A photo sat under the headline showing the front of the manor with several guard cars and ambulance parked in front of the entrance. Éowyn could clearly see Inspector Mallory in the foreground, a scowl on his face as he looked at the camera.

**VIOLENCE STRIKES VAEL MANOR**

 

> **STARKHAVEN** \- Two people are reported dead and one injured after there were reports of shots fired at the Vael Manor in Starkhaven. Not much is known at this time about the exact events but Detective Chief Inspector James Mallory was at the scene and told reporters that the investigation is ongoing and that the motives of the alleged shooters were unknown at this time. However an anonymous source reported that Sebastian Vael, the last surviving member of the Vael family, was present on the scene. What his involvement in the shooting means is unknown at this time but the same source reported that he was accompanied by an unnamed woman.
> 
>  
> 
> This is not the first time violence has befallen the Vael family. Three years ago the Vael Manor was the site of the grisly murders of most of the Vael family. Prince Vael and his wife Carolina were found brutally slain in their beds. Their eldest son, Magnus, was also found dead in his room. Stewart Vael, a veteran of the Fereldan war, was one of the first bodies found. Also dead on the scene were the Vael’s security guards and their in-home staff.
> 
>  
> 
> To this day the Guard remains baffled by the murders and have no suspects three years later. There are rumors that the alleged gunmen were affiliated with the notorious Flint  gang but the Guard has been unable to make a solid connection to the Kirkwall gang and any answers that could be found were dashed when a gang war erupted between Flint and Kirkwall’s other notorious gang, the Coterie.
> 
>  
> 
> Rumor has it that the youngest son of Prince Vael, Sebastian Vael, formerly a lay brother to the Chantry in Kirkwall, is attempting to retake Vael Consolidated from his cousin Goran Vael and speculation abounds. Why Mr Vael has seen fit to challenge his cousin for leadership of Vael Consolidated is under much speculation.
> 
>  
> 
> Mr Vael was unavailable for comment at the time of this printing.

 

Éowyn tossed the paper aside, running a hand through her hair. At least they hadn’t identified her by name but it was more than enough to set the hounds baying. Once this story hit the wire every reporter in the Free Marches would chase it and they were likely to get in her way. It was difficult to turn over rocks when the whole world was watching.

“Well?” Aveline demanded.

“Well, what? What do you want me to say, Aveline? It’s not like I went looking for a fight, the fight came to me. My name’s not in the paper. Mallory didn’t seem to be bothered by my presence or actions. Both Sebastian and I survived so I’m not entirely sure why you’ve got a bug up your ass about this.”

“Why? _Why?_ Because you’re a trouble magnet Hawke. Remember that incident with the statue? I was cleaning up after you for weeks.”

Éowyn scowled at her. “ _That_ was hardly my fault. How was I to know that Bartrand was a double-dealing, backstabbing bastard? Varric asked for my help in tracking it down. Was I supposed to say no to him? He’s my friend, Aveline. I don’t have too many of those.”

Deflated, Aveline sank into a chair, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to drop this? I’m your friend too, Hawke. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I think I can take care of myself, don’t you?”

“Yes, but you’re reckless, and one of these days it’s going to get you killed. Or worse.”

Éowyn arched an eyebrow. “Or worse? What could be worse than dying? Unless it’s not getting paid?”

Aveline sighed, a weary resignation falling over her. “Only you would think not getting paid is worse than death. I don’t want to say you’re out of your depth here with this-.”

“But you are saying it. Haven’t we had this discussion already?”

“Not with me.”

Éowyn narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been speaking with Varric.”

“Of course I have. He may be a reprobate with few morals but he cares about you, enough to where he came to me about this.”

“Varric just doesn’t like people of a certain social circle.”

“He knows what they’re capable of Hawke.”

“And I don’t? For fuck’s sake, Aveline, my _mother_ is one of those people. You think I don’t know what they’re capable of?”

“Not when--.”

Whatever Aveline had been about to say was interrupted by a new knock at the door. Both Éowyn and Aveline turned toward it, Éowyn shutting her eyes in an attempt to minimize the vertigo that struck her. Opening her eyes again, she wasn’t sure if she was hallucinating or not. The woman standing on the threshold was more known for falling asleep at dawn rather than waking with it.

“Isabela?”

“I want you to know that it is only through the strength of my love for you that I’m awake at this hour.” Isabela strode through the door, casually tossing her wrap over the back of an upright chair. Whether a living room or a lounge room, Isabella's mere presence commanded attention, it was part of the reason she was so successful at what she did. Her gaze flicked over Éowyn, her lips pursing slightly.

“You look like shit.”

“You don’t know how happy it makes me that you sugar coat the truth for me, Isabela.”

“Hey, you want lies, go read the Chantry board,” she paused, “Though I hear you’ve got a direct line to the Grand Cleric due to a certain former Chantry brother.”

“What on earth? That’s…” Éowyn tossed her hands in the air before slumping onto the couch. She put her head in her hands, attempting to massage away the growing pain. Sitting back up, she shot a glare at both Aveline and Isabela.

“Mr Vael hired me to do a job, and it’s _not_ investigating the Chantry. It’s a personal matter for him.”

“Personal? Does that include snogging on your front porch?”

Éowyn gaped at Isabela. Aveline look as if she wanted to say something but wisely kept her mouth shut. Though she didn’t hold back on the glare she leveled at Éowyn.

“I had a certain mopey mechanic come into the lounge last night. Eventually had to get Fenris to pour him into a cab to bring home.”

“Anders? I saw him last…” Éowyn trailed off, remembering the circumstances of their encounter. Encounter was probably not the best word to describe it but she was certainly puzzled by what Isabela was telling her. “Why would he care who I kiss?”

Isabela rolled her eyes as she smoothly crossed her legs. “Sweetheart, that man has been in love with you since you met.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. He just a friend.”

“Maybe on _your_ end.”

“It’s not my fault he sees something more.”

“I didn’t say that it was. Just relaying the information,” she paused, a sly smile spreading across her face. “I am _very_ interested to know who you were snogging. Was it the Brother? A Sister? Oh do tell me you’re corrupting members of the Chantry. That would totally make my day.”

“Hawke wouldn’t do such a thing. The only one here doing the corrupting is you.”

Isabela raised an eyebrow. “Keep sweet talking me like that, Guard Captain, and I’ll start thinking you’re jealous.”

Aveline sputtered at that before her glower deepened. Isabela was impervious to it and Éowyn just wanted both of them to go away so she could go back to sleep.

“At the risk of repeating myself, you do look quite horrible. I never would have thought a bit of snogging would make a girl look like a ghoul.”

“No one says snogging anymore, Isabela,” Éowyn said in an attempt to deflect the question but confronted with two sets of hard stares from her friends, she caved. Her shoulders slumping, she sank into the couch. She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and sighed.

“It was a bad night. Too many memories.”

“Ostagar?” Aveline asked quietly.

“No. Lothering.”

“Ah, that would explain why it smells like a distillery in here. Did you drink your entire liquor cabinet?”

Éowyn glared at Isabela but there was no heat in her gaze. “Not for lack of trying. Couldn’t keep it down.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you shouldn’t keep it all in or drown it with alcohol.”

“You’re one to talk. You drink like a fish,” Éowyn accused.

“The difference being, is that I don’t drink to forget or numb memories, sweetheart.”

“You both drink too much if you ask me.”

“My dear Guard Captain, my trade runs on liquor and jazz. I’d be a poor proprietor if I didn’t serve either,” Isabela drawled as she took a slim gold cigarette case out of her purse. At Éowyn sour look, she sighed and slid it back into her purse. “If you’re not going to let me smoke, at least give me more details on the luscious Mr Vael. Are his eyes really as blue as I’ve heard?”

“Bluer,” Éowyn mumbled despite herself. She hadn’t meant to respond, but like many things concerning Sebastian Vael, she found herself doing things that she would have never dreamed of with any other client. Or anyone for that matter. Romantic entanglements was at the bottom of her to-do list. Hell, it was barely on the list at all.

“You don’t say. I find this absolutely fascinating. You don’t get tripped up over a man.”

“I’m not ‘tripped up’ over him, as you so eloquently put it. It was just a kiss. I can still do my job.”

Isabela simply hummed in response and flicked an invisible piece of lint off her skirt.

“Your ability to do your job isn’t in question, Hawke. We just worry about you. That’s what happens when you have friends.”

“You’re both a pain in the ass is what you are.”

“Oh, but you love this ass regardless, darling. It is quite fantastic afterall. Fenris thinks so as well.”

Éowyn snorted at that and couldn’t help the smile that crept up her face. Upon seeing it, Isabela smiled as well. “Ah, there it is. I hate to see you all gloomy. Goes against your nature. We’re all full-up on broody with Fenris, can’t have you trying to compete with him.”

“You know that’s not possible, Isabela. Fenris is a completely different level of brooding than the rest of us mere humans. That’s probably what makes him such a good piano player, gives him that air of mystery some women seem to like. What? I’ve been there and witnessed for myself how the women swoon over him.”

“He is very swoon-worthy, isn’t he?” Isabela agreed. “Too bad for them he’s taken.” A feral grin grew on her face.

“If you’re done discussing your love lives, I have more important things to do. Like make sure this citizens of this city don’t get caught in the crossfire of the local gangs.”

“What? I thought they’d been behaving themselves.”

“Hawke, you more than anyone should know better. The gangs here, even when there’s a so-called peace, wreck havoc on the people. And the Templars are stirring up trouble too.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Knight Commander has decided to enact some archaic Chantry laws; she believes it’s the best way to get the gangs under control. She wants to make Kirkwall dry again. She’s also blaming the Fereldan refugees for the gang problem.”

“Make Kirkwall dry? Because that worked so well that last time. Does she not remember that’s how a majority of Kirkwall’s gangs got started? Is she really that stupid?”

“Sweetheart,” Isabela drawled, “she can certainly _try_ to bring back prohibition but that’s going to backfire in her face, I can guarantee it. She’s part of a religious organization, not the city Guard.”

“That doesn’t mean she can’t whip up the more zealous members into a frenzy.”

“True,” Isabela acknowledged. “But those so-called pious people are a bunch of hypocrites. I see half of them coming into The Blooming Rose every weekend, some even during the week. I have more of the Hightown deep pockets drinking my booze and listening to my jazz than she thinks, as well as a few of her Templars.”

“But the refugees? It’s been years since we came here escaping the war. What does she hope to gain from this?”

“Why, power of course. You know she’s just itching to oust Dumar. He’s not exactly popular, especially with the high and mighty. That zealot Patrice isn’t helping matters any. She’s the one who’s urging the Knight-Commander to push out the refugees. Says they’re a blight on the city.”

“So much for the charity of the Chantry,” Éowyn grumbled. She couldn’t help but wonder if Sebastian knew about this. Or what he thought about it. Surely he wouldn’t support these measures. She thought back to their first meeting and how he had frowned at her whiskey and suddenly the thought wasn’t so far-fetched.

“Oh, now she’s got her knickers in a twist wondering where the Choir Boy stands on this. Darling, I’ve never met the man but I wouldn’t flip your wig over it. From the way Anders said he was getting all handsy with you… It was actually a little pervy in how much detail he went in to.”

Éowyn twisted her lips at that. She didn’t want to think of how long Anders had been watching them. It had been such a personal and intimate moment that the thought of anyone intruding upon it, even a good friend, _especially_ a good friend, made her uncomfortable. Shoving the thought away, she focused on what Isabela said before mentioning Anders.Then something Isabela said clicked.

“So, Hightown’s elite come to your club. I don’t suppose you know if any of Kirkwall’s less reputable citizens visit your fine establishment?”

“No, Hawke,” said Isabela and Aveline at the same time. Éowyn raised an eyebrow at them.

“What? It’s not like I’m going to blow the place up or anything.”

“Maybe not, but trouble follows you and I rather like the new tables I have after the last incident.”

“And I rather like not having your ass in jail,” Aveline grumbled.

“Well, so do I, but what does that have to do with anything? That last time was hardly my fault.  Gamlen’s a drunk and an asshole but even he didn’t deserve the beatdown that was coming,” she paused. “Look, it’s to do with the case. I have cause to believe that someone here in Kirkwall hired the Flint gang to murder the Vael family. Someone powerful and wanted more of it. Someone here stood to gain from their deaths and The Blooming Rose is a good as any place to start.”

“Why don’t you just burn down the place, Hawke? Poking at bears will lead to you losing a hand.”

“Please, Isabela, poking at bears it what I do best. I promise I won’t cause a single smudge.”

“Look  Aveline, Hawke’s promising not to cause trouble. Must be Tuesday.”

Aveline snorted. “Can you at least _try_ not to cause any trouble?”

“Would it make you happier if I put on a red wig and wear the lowest cut dress I can find?”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to cause trouble. You’ve got some fantastic ta-tas there Hawke.”

“Why do you insist on being so vulgar?” asked Aveline. Éowyn struggled not to roll her eyes. Aveline was a good friend, one of her oldest, but why she let Isabela’s bawdiness get to her was beyond Éowyn’s reckoning.

“Because, darling, it’s fun and it pisses you off.” Turning back to Éowyn, Isabela continued. “When can I expect this glorious display of yours? I need to know when I should hire some more muscle to toss anyone stupid enough to break my tables out on their asses.”

“Saturday’s your busiest night, right? I’ll have the best chance of rooting out information then.”

“Hawke, I hate to break it to you, but today is Saturday.”

Éowyn blinked at Aveline, confusion crossing over her face quickly followed by annoyance. “Well, shit. I can’t go tonight. I have legwork to do before I go there.”

“Saturday may be busy, sure, but it’s really Friday night you want if you’re really serious about harassing my customers.”

“I promise to be as discreet as I can. This actually works out better. I have hunting to do that doesn’t require wearing sequins and those torture devices on your feet you like to call shoes.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I’ve seen your closet. If you want to blend in at the club, we’re going to have to go shopping.”

Éowyn didn’t even bother to stifle a groan this time. “Shopping isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities right now, Isabela. I’ve a case to solve.”

“Oh piss, that doesn’t mean you don’t have time for some shopping. If you want to blend in with the glitterati, you’re going to have to look the part. I love you dearly, but your sense of fashion doesn’t exactly say _trust me, you can tell me anything_ , it’s more _if you side-eye me one more time I’m going to punch you in the throat_.”

“She’s not wrong, Hawke.”

“Ugh, you’re both impossible. Now, if you two are done criticising my wardrobe I need to get dressed and get to work. The bad guys aren’t exactly going to line up for me to catch them.”

Éowyn started to stand up when Isabela leaned over and placed her hand over hers. “Listen, sweetheart, I know you don’t like to talk about Ferelden but I don’t like the dark circles it puts under your eyes. I care about you, you silly kitten. Maker knows why.”

“I’m handling it, Isabela. In my own way.”

“Can you try not to handle it from the bottom of a bottle? Why not let the Choir Boy tumble you?”

A strangled sounded emitted from Éowyn’s throat. “Sex doesn’t solve all problems, Isabela, no matter what you seem to think.”

“Oh, but for some it does make life so much more tolerable. And it doesn’t leave you with rot gut and a hangover like the cheap booze I know you drink.”

“But it can lead to regret and self-loathing.”

“Not if you’re doing it right, sweet thing. I can give you some pointers if you’re rusty.”

“Isabela! The man was a member of the Chantry.”

“Was being the operative word. Interesting though that you have thought about it. Choir Boy or no.”

“You are shameless.”

“Yes, and damned proud of it,” Isabela said, showing no remorse. “Now, as much fun as this has been, I have a club to run and need to practice some new songs. You should clean yourself up. _Eat_ something for Maker’s sake. Don’t make me call Merrill.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would and I think the good Guard Captain here is on my side in this regard.”

“I hate you both.”

Isabela blew her a kiss as she strolled to the doorway. At the threshold, she turned, a sly smile lifting her lips. “If you’re not too busy dodging bullets or snuggling up to Choir Boy on Monday, we’re going shopping for that dress. My club has certain standards you know, and nothing in your closet will get you through the door, friend or no friend.” She was through the door and gone before Éowyn could form a proper response. She was left in her living room with a Guard Captain who looked like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or frown.

Several moments passed before Aveline sighed and turned back to her. “I suppose I should apologize for how I barged in here this morning.”

“Yes, you probably should.”

“I let my temper and worry overrule my common sense. I’m sorry for that. I just… no, there was no excuse for it. I was so caught up that I didn’t see what shape you were in until that woman came in and told you that you looked like shit. I’m a crappy friend.”

“Aveline, you are many things, but a crappy friend is not one of them. We both got our jabs in.”

“Nevertheless, I am sorry,” Aveline paused. “Are you going to be okay? I know those memories of Ferelden are hard for you.”

“No more than they are for you. I’ll be fine, Aveline. Nothing that beating up a couple of bad guys won’t cure.”

Aveline snorted. “As I’m sure you’ll manage to find some, can you at least keep it out of sight of the guard? I’m not keen on having to explain to the Viscount how my best friend ended up in jail. Again.”

“Please, the Viscount loves me, it’s his assistant that can’t stand me.”

“If you didn’t antagonize the man with every breath perhaps he wouldn’t have that sour look on his face all the time.”

“That sour look on Bran’s face is his default look. Any so-called antagonizing I do is just a bonus.”

Aveline just shook her head as she made her way to the door. “I know telling you to be careful is a fool’s errand but can you at least humor me and try?”

“Okay, I’ll humor you.”

Aveline snorted as she left, closing the door behind her. Finally alone again, Éowyn slumped back into the couch. The pounding in her head had lessened and she knew she should get up and get ready for the day, but she needed just a minute. Just a minute to focus her thoughts and shake off the last horrible bits of last night’s nightmare.

“Suck it up, Hawke, you’ve got a job to do,” she told herself, pushing herself up carefully to a standing position. When the world didn’t spin around her, she took cautious steps into the kitchen, hoping that there was something edible in her pantry. She could take a detour to The Hanged Man for some breakfast but that would mean dealing with Merrill as she mother-henned her to death and that she just couldn’t deal with right now. Right now she needed to get something in her stomach, get dressed, and then payoff a certain mechanic before digging into the deeper levels of Lowtown to poke at some bears.


	9. Chapter 9

Éowyn stood in front of Anders’ shop, squinting her eyes against the sharp brightness of the sun. It was stupid to feel nervous about seeing her friend but after what Isabela had told her this morning, it put their whole relationship in a different light. She had met him not too long after arriving in the city and meeting another Ferelden amongst a sea of hostile Free Marchers was a blessing. He’d been a doctor in Ferelden but because of Kirkwall’s red tape and their prejudice against the refugees he wasn’t allowed to practice here. Instead he’d had to fall back on fixing cars. He hadn’t been happy about it, but given a choice between poverty or permanently having grease under his fingernails, Anders had chosen to pick up his wrench again.

What the powers that be in Hightown didn’t know what that he also ran an illegal clinic out of the back of his shop, helping those who were too poor to seek medical care elsewhere. It was a poorly kept secret among those in Lowtown but one they fiercely guarded against. Éowyn wasn’t even sure if Aveline knew about it or not.

Shaking it off, she stepped into the garage. Despite the open sign on the door, the interior was dim except for a weak yellow light coming from the back office. The door to the garage was open, the smell of engine grease and sweat pouring through. She could hear the tinkling music of the radio station floating from the back of the garage. Éowyn took a cautious step through what only a generous person would call a waiting room and called out Anders’ name. The two chairs were second and third hand and the counter held a cash register that was probably older than her mother. She sighed as she maneuvered around the counter. He needed to be more careful. Leaving the register unattended like that was an open invitation for any punk who happened to walk by and see an easy score. He really needed to get an assistant or receptionist; someone to watch the desk while he worked so he didn’t get robbed blind.

Something metal clanged against the cement floor quickly followed by loud and creative cursing. Éowyn chuckled softly and continued toward the noise. She found a pair of legs sticking out from underneath an old Ford Anglia that was almost more rust than metal.

“I think it’s terminal, doc. Better just let this one go and put it out of it’s misery.”

“I’m not letting this nug-humping bastard get the best of me.”

Éowyn whistled. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

Anders wheeled out from underneath the Anglia, fresh oil streaking down his face and into his hair. The glare he leveled at her could have melted ice as he pulled a dirty handkerchief and wiped the oil from his face. The scowl remained however. As did the new red lump on his forehead.

“Wrench get away from you?”

“Wingnut broke as I was trying to remove the oil pan. Bastard fell on my head,” he grumbled as he stood up, tossing the handkerchief on to his workbench.

“Don’t worry, you’re still pretty. Some girls like scars.”

Anders gave her a sour look and then did a doubletake. “What did you do to yourself this time?” he asked, gesturing to her neck.

“An ill-tempered Nevarran decided to pick a fight. He lost.”

“Are you sure about that? You’ve got a ring of bruises around your neck. I don’t suppose you got it looked at.”

“I did, actually, and they didn’t do anything more than what I’d have done on my own.”

“Medicating with whiskey and aspirin is not sound medical practice.”

“You would know, I guess, being a doctor and all. Besides, I’ll have you know I skipped the whiskey this time,” she said, skirting the memory of the nightmare and how she’d tried to drown it out.

“What, you want a medal? Come on, I’ve got some salve that will help with the bruising.”

Éowyn sighed and followed him into the back of the garage. Anders on a good day could be trying but when he was in a full-blown snit about one thing or another it was impossible to deal with him. Today he seemed to land somewhere inbetween.

He picked out a small jar from a cabinet and tossed it at Éowyn. She caught it and stared at it warily. “Does this smell like the horse shit you gave me last time?”

“Probably. Why? Worried about smelling bad? Can’t afford to offend those Hightown nobles I suppose.”

Éowyn sighed again. She had hoped that Isabela had misread the situation but it would seem that her friend’s instincts were as sharp as ever.

The question that boiled in her mind was if she should just ignore Anders’ little temper tantrum or confront him about it. On the one hand she had more than enough on her plate at the moment and dealing with a petulant man wasn’t really something she wanted to deal with unless it meant slapping him up the backside of his head. On the other he was still a friend and she had precious few of those.

“Anders, I-.”

“No charge for the salve, though I should considering how much of the stuff you use. Here’s the bill for the car. Could you possibly try to keep it in one piece for at least a week this time?”

Éowyn pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest instead of taking the sheet of paper he held out to her. So, a slap up the backside of his head it was.

“Do I get a discount if I yank that stick out of your ass for you? We’re friends Anders, but this whole wounded animal routine you’re pulling is beneath you and, I’m sad to say, rather pathetic. Not to mention overly melodramatic, even for you.”

Anders’ eyes flared. “Is it so unreasonable to worry about a friend? To worry about if she’s being used for some noble’s ulterior motives? I saw the car he drove. You could feed half of Lowtown for a week on how much it’s worth. Nobles don’t care about what happens to the little people, even less for the Ferelden refugees, and now you’re gadding about with one of them. It’s disgusting.”

“What I do on my own time is of no business of yours, and frankly I’m getting really tired of people thinking I can’t handle this case, and it _is_ a case. He hired me to find who arranged for his family to be murdered. Murdered, Anders, as in dead, as in not natural causes. It’s not like I’m tracking down some relic for him to display. Besides, he works for the Chantry. Or did, anyway.”

“And that makes it any better? The Chantry talks a good game about helping the needy but where are they Hawke? You’re lucky to find one on this side of town and you’ll _never_ find them in Darktown. They’re just as concerned about appearances as the rest of Hightown.”

“You’re being an ass. I have work to do and don’t have time to listen to your manifesto again.” She snagged the bill from his hand, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat when she saw the total. Slapping down the cash on the counter she glared back at him. “I don’t disagree with your points, Anders, but shouting on the street corner isn’t going to change anything.”

“Well, something needs to be done.” Anders crossed his arms, his scowl growing deeper.

Éowyn pulled at the strap of her bag so that it sat more firmly against her shoulder. “Then do something instead of bitching about it.”

She was halfway through the garage before she heard him call after her. Ignoring him, she didn’t stop and left the building. She let her anger propel her down the block and around the corner and then for several more blocks. It wasn’t until she reached one of the few green spaces in Lowtown that she realized she’d been going there since she left Anders’ garage. Green was not a color one saw often in Kirkwall, in either plant life or decoration. No, Kirkwall was all about reds, browns, and golds. Green reminded her of Ferelden and in that moment she missed it more than she could have thought she ever could have.

It had been simpler back then. Before the war anyway. Sure there hadn’t been much money, but they’d been happy. Perhaps her memory was painting the past in a softer light but when she considered what she was facing now, that nostalgia for a simpler time pulled at her.

Things _had_ been simpler. They _had_ been happy. Sitting down on a small bench, Éowyn closed her eyes and let herself remember. Her father had been larger than life, in every meaning of the term. Thinking back on it, he had been the glue that had held their little family together. After he had died, the cracks started to form, cracks that had widened when war came to Ferelden and grew to canyon size after Bethany died.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought of her sister. Their escape from Ferelden had been harsh and fast. No time to gather her medicine. And the gas attacks had only made Bethany’s condition worse. Perhaps if they had been able to seek proper medical attention when they had reached Kirkwall she would have lived longer, perhaps not. Either way, Bethany was the first thing Kirkwall had taken from her. Carver had followed a year later. Not dead, but far enough away with the Grey Wardens and his anger that he might as well have been.

Leandra had blamed her for them leaving. It was irrational of her, especially with Bethany. No one could have saved Bethany. She was dead the instant the gas had entered her lungs. It just took a year for it to complete its job. And in Éowyn’s mind she could hardly be blamed for Carver’s leaving. It wasn’t her fault he was a stubborn and prideful ass.

And yet she did blame herself. Perhaps if she had gotten her family out of Lothering faster. Perhaps if she had seen through Bartrand’s deception sooner. If, if, if, if. So many ifs. If she had done that, then this would have happened. Or not happened.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Éowyn opened her eyes just as Varric sat down next to her. He set a paper bag between them as he leaned back against the bench and laid his hands across his stomach.

“They’re not worth a penny.” She eyed the paper bag warily. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is. I’d rather go crawling through the sewers of Darktown than smell your tuna, bacon, onion, and ketchup monstrosity. Those are four things that should never be combined. Ever.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I’ll admit.”

“Varric, it’s a biohazard. How it hasn’t killed you yet is a miracle.”

“The salt from the bacon acts as a preservative. That and we Tethras’s have very sturdy constitutions.”

Éowyn could only shake her head. Ferelden cuisine was by no means fancy, she’d had yet to meet a cook who didn’t want to put cabbage in everything, but that was nothing compared to what she’d seen come out of Varric’s paper bag. There were times where she suspected that he did it just to get a rise out of people, but the way he ate the thing with such relish made her doubt that. It could be both though she honestly couldn’t understand why he would willingly put such a combination in his mouth.

“So as to not offend your delicate sensibilities, I’ll wait until you leave before I eat my lunch.”

“You’re all heart Varric.”

“Yeah, that’s me, man of the people.” He waited a beat. “So you had quite an eventful day yesterday.”

“You could say that. It led to Aveline pounding on my door at an ungodly hour this morning. Thanks for keeping my name out of the papers. I appreciate it.”

“Hey, what are friends for. Can’t say that other papers will as considerate once they know who the ‘unnamed woman’ is. Especially if you continue working on this case. Maker knows what will happen if you actually solve it. You might have to move.”

“They’d have to cross the line over to Lowtown to get to me.”

“Hawke, you know better than that. Once they make the connection that you’re an Amell and your association with Vael, they’ll trudge through sewers of shit to get a picture. The people who work for those rags have no soul.”

“That’s why it’s helpful to have friends in the right places. Besides, I’m not here to make the papers, I’m here to catch a murderer.”

“It’s that type of thinking that’s going to get you in trouble one of these days Hawke.”

“I can hold my own.”

“Oh, I know it. I’ve seen you in action, remember?” Varric paused, pulling a thick envelope out from the inside of his jacket. “Here, this might be of some use to you.”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow as she took it. “What is it?”

“More background on some of the nobles here in Kirkwall I told you about the other day who might have an interest in Vael Consolidated. Two in particular. The de Launcets are pretentious social climbers. Originally from Orlais and came here for reasons unknown, though rumor has it they were run out of Val Royeaux after an incident with a misplaced glove.”

Éowyn snorted. With all the problems that faced Thedas leave it to Orlesians to get worked up over a glove. “So, they’re social climbers, doesn’t necessarily make them murderers. Not cold blooded anyway.”

“Perhaps, but given the chance and motivation I could see either of them doing it. Dulci de Launcet is no wilting flower despite all her simpering. She aims to see her daughters married and married well.”

“The goal of every mother. I still don’t see how that would translate into having the Vael family murdered. If anything, you’d think she’d want the younger Vaels alive so she could marry her daughters to them.”

“Fair point, but I do know that Guillaume has a rather large share of Vael Consolidated.”

“Why does that name sound familiar? I know I’ve heard it somewhere before.”

“Search me, but I still think they’re worth looking into. Word is their lout of a son spends a lot of time at The Blooming Rose. Buy the kid a few drinks and maybe he’ll give you some details the parents don’t want out.”

“I’m scoping out the place this week anyway so it’s worth a try, but if he’s as useless as you say it’ll probably be a dead end. What about the other family?”

“The Harimanns, they’re a piece of work, let me tell you. The Johane Harimann is even more set on her children marrying well than Dulci de Launcet, and isn’t too particular about if her children are happy with the match.”

“Sounds like a lovely woman.”

“You have no idea. She came down to the paper once, ranting about an op-ed one of my kids wrote about the disconnect between Hightown and Lowtown,” Varric chuckled. “She basically proved the kid’s point.”

“I’m guessing I won’t find her at The Blooming Rose then.”

“Oh you won’t find that woman within ten blocks of the place. I doubt you’d find her children there either. She keeps a pretty tight reign on them.”

“Well, shit. That’s going to make it more difficult to get a read on them.”

Varric was silent for a moment, his head tilted slightly to the side as he scratched his chin. “You know, there’s a person you could go to if you wanted more inside information on the Harimanns.”

It took her a moment before she realized who Varric was talking about. “No, just no.”

“Come on Hawke, I thought you wanted to solve this case. You’ve never balked at going to difficult sources for information before.”

“Those didn’t involve having tea with my mother.”

“Hey, I’m just offering suggestions,” he paused, a wry smile rising on his lips. “If you want a buffer, you could always bring Vael with you. I’m sure your mother would be thrilled to have a prince of Starkhaven over for tea.”

Éowyn flushed, thinking back to the kiss from last night. If her mother ever got even a whisper that had happened she’d never leave her alone. Leandra had never made it a secret about what she thought of her job and if she got the tiniest bit of leverage that she thought she could use to make her quit her mother wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Éowyn knew it was a constant source of frustration to her that neither of her remaining children wanted to take up the Amell mantle.

The thought of going to her mother’s and digging for information on Hightown nobles made her eye twitch. There was no way that Leandra wouldn’t misinterpret that as Éowyn finally accepting her heritage and birthright.

“You could always just show up on her doorstep, that way you can have her off balance.”

“True, but then there’s the possibility that Quentin will be there. There’s just something about that man Varric that I don’t trust. He makes my skin crawl.”

“Well, I can’t help you there. He’s squeaky clean as far as I can tell.”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by squeaky clean? Varric, did you run him?”

“Of course I did. So did Aveline for that matter. Look Hawke, we all know that your relationship with your mother is tenuous at best.” She snorted at that but didn’t say anything. Varric glared at her before he continued. “ _But_ , we both know that if you were really set on cutting her out of your life completely you would have done it by now. The fact that you don’t trust this Quentin is proof of that.”

All she could do was sigh. Varric wasn’t wrong. There would always be a part of her that wished for an amicable relationship with her mother but she just didn’t see how that was possible when Leandra blamed her for Bethany’s death and Carver leaving to join the Wardens.

“There’s not enough coffee or whiskey in the world to deal with this.”

“Now who’s being melodramatic? Maker’s breath Hawke, you’re sounding a bit like Anders.” At Éowyn’s groan he gave her a sharp look. “What? Blondie giving you crap for busting up your car? Again?”

“No, well, yes, but he’s got a stick up his ass about something else. And before you ask, it’s _not_ something I’m up to talking about right now.”

Varric put his hands up. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep my nose out of it until you say different.”

Éowyn just barely managed to not roll her eyes. Varric was a good reporter and newspaperman for a reason. He had a way about him that got people to talk to him and he managed it with words as opposed to fists like she was prone to do.

She looked down at the thick envelope in her hands. Knowing Varric and judging by the thickness of it there was enough information to dig through that would keep her busy for half the afternoon. And she still had those files that Sebastian had given her. She needed to get back to the office and set up a board. Having the dossiers and such was helpful but she was better able to sort out answers and see patterns if she had a visual representation of events.

“Thanks for this Varric. I appreciate the help.”

“Hey, anything for you Hawke, you know that. I still owe you for that thing with the statue.”

“Varric, the thing with the statue was hardly your fault. We both know whose fault it is.”

“Yeah, it’s my nug-humping bastard of a brother’s fault, but I should have seen it coming. I knew he was a greedy bastard but I didn’t think he’d actually betray us. Maker’s balls, Hawke, Carver almost died because of him and you narrowly avoided jail.”

“We can thank Aveline for that. I just wish we'd been able to catch him. Would have been nice to see him rotting in the Gallows than in the wind. Who knows what damage he's caused since we last saw him.”

“Don't remind me. What I wouldn't give to have the chance to kick his ass,” Varric grumbled.

Éowyn patted his hand. “I'm right there with you. Trust me. I can think of several things I'd like to do to him but none of those are exactly legal and I prefer to be on this side of the prison bars.”

“Don’t we all,” he murmured. He glanced at his watch. “I figure I have about another fifteen minutes before all hell breaks loose at the paper and I’m going to need some sustenance before I have to run herd on them.”

“These _are_ adult we’re talking about, right? I should think they would behave themselves without you there to watch over them.”

“They’re not adults, they’re reporters. They are not to be trusted.”

At that point Varric opened his paper bag and removed a foil wrapped shape. Éowyn edged away from him and off the bench. A smirk curled up the side of Varric’s face as he opened the foil and took a hearty bite out of the tuna, bacon, onion, and ketchup sandwich. She had to heavily swallow the gorge that rose in her throat. A part of her wondered if he did this on purpose just to throw people off balance but he ate it all the time.

“Don’t leave on my account, Hawke.”

“Oh, I’m leaving on my own account, Varric. My love for you as your friend only goes so far and it doesn’t extend to what you call a sandwich.”

Varric merely shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He wiped a spot of ketchup off his chin and licked it from his finger. “Consider what I said about talking with your mother. I have my little spies but even they have their limits. You can get the dirtiest of secrets in a noblewoman’s salon.”

Éowyn scrunched her nose in distaste. She eyed Varric’s sandwich and an idea sprung to mind.

“If I do this you can’t eat that sandwich, _or_ any variation of it, for an entire month.”

“Ah, come on Hawke, you wouldn’t deprive a man of his simple pleasures, would you?”

“I consider this a public service. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a medal of commendation for taking that sandwich off the streets for a month. _And_ I’ll consider us even for the whole statue incident.”

Varric looked mournfully down at his sandwich. “Can I at least finish this one?”

“I won’t deprive you of your lunch. _Today_. Think of this as an opportunity to get in Corff’s good graces. He, out of all of us, hates that sandwich the most.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “I’ll do it. Not exactly sure what I’m getting out of this deal though.”

“The undying gratitude of your friends.” Éowyn shifted her bag more securely on her shoulder. “Who knows, maybe by expanding your horizons you’ll find something less revolting to the rest of us.”

Varric glared at her. “You’ve made your point Hawke, everyone finds my sandwich disgusting. At least let me enjoy my last meal in peace. Don’t forget our deal. If I’m going to suffer, so are you.”

“Oh, I don’t know Varric. It’s just one afternoon. I’m pretty sure I can handle it.” In the back of her mind she thought, _and maybe I can get some dirt on Quentin. As a bonus._ “See you around, Varric.”

Varric merely grunted as he took another bite of his sandwich while he fished a thermos out of the paper bag. She could hear him grumbling as she walked away and she had to smother a laugh. It was the little things that got you through the day.

Glancing up at the sky, she judged it to be just past eleven. If she hadn’t changed her routine, and Éowyn seriously doubted that was the case, her mother would hold tea at two o’clock precisely. That would give her more than enough time to drop quickly into the Hanged Man to get a sandwich to go (one that was edible to most humans) and get to her office and set up her board. She should have done it days ago but the trip to Starkhaven, despite how fruitful it had been, had put her behind.

She walked through the streets of Lowtown in a decidedly better mood. Perhaps it was going to be a good day afterall.


	10. Chapter 10

Sweat was trickling down her spine by the time she got back to her office. When she opened the door it was like stepping into the bowels of hell itself. The one good thing about a Kirkwall summer was the lack of humidity. The heat may bake you until your skin cracks when you move but at least you could move. The couple months of summer that Ferelden got made a person just want to lie down and submit to whatever deity you prayed to. By the time she got her board half set up Éowyn was ready to dive fully clothed into the harbor. As it was she had long ago stripped off her jacket and undone several buttons on her blouse.

Her little fan didn’t do much but push hot air from one corner to the other but it was at least something. She’d pulled the shade down halfway down her windows but kept the windows themselves open in the vain hope that some fresh air would stir. Billie Holiday crooned out softly from her dinky little radio and provided her with some company as she dug into the business of murder.

She wiped the sweat from the back of her neck as she studied the board. Across the top she had laid out the timeline of events as best she could. She started it from when the elder Vaels had sent Sebastian to the Chantry in Kirkwall and ended it with them being ambushed at the Vael estate. It was a little unsettling to see that him bookending the timeline and it was entirely possible that the plan to murder the Vael family started before they sent him away but it was the best place to start at the moment. 

On the lower left she had pinned pictures of the Vael family with notecards underneath each, her cramped handwriting filling each with what information she deemed important. She also had the guards and staff listed as well. There was a possibility that one of them had leaked information to Flint’s gang. Not only possible, but highly probable. He could have bribed one of them and then had his men kill them with the rest of the house so as to not leave any loose ends. There was always the possibility they could develop a conscience and rat out Flint and his gang. From what she remembered of Flint he hadn’t been a man to leave things to chance.

Across from the victims she had the pictures of those most likely to benefit from the Vael murders. Goran Vael was placed at the top. From everything she had it seemed that he was as useful as a wooden frying pan but she had learned to hard way not to underestimate people. 

Next to them she had the de Launcets and the Harimanns and the various ways they could benefit. Both families held stock in Vael Consolidated but nothing that could threaten ownership. She’s read the company’s bylaws back and forth until her eyes bled. How they had managed to make it so that only a Vael could lead the company was beyond her. For decades it had been a privately held company. It wasn’t until Sebastian’s father had taken the helm that it had gone public.

Varric had also included several other Hightown noble families that could have or did benefit from the Vaels’ murders: the DuPuis family, several members of the Dwarven Merchant Guild including the Davris and the Vascas (though Éowyn suspected that Varric put them there somewhat out of spite, he’d never forgiven them about the thing with the statue). He even had the Dumars listed, and, surprisingly, Meredith Stannard. It was true that the Knight-Commander was an ambitious woman and it was no secret that she had long wanted Marlowe Dumar out of office, but Éowyn had trouble believing that the woman cared for much of what happened outside of Kirkwall’s city limits. Perhaps she was missing something there, but she doubted it.

A slight throb began to build behind her eyes as she flipped through the financial data. Numbers had never been her strong point. They had always seemed to blur on the page whenever she had tried to work problems back in school. Changing schools so many times throughout her childhood hadn’t helped. Bethany had been wicked smart and had helped her through her courses. Her sister had the patience of Andraste and could ride out Éowyn’s outbursts when she got frustrated when the numbers wouldn’t work as she knew they should. 

She liked puzzles, liked pulling at the strings, liked finding out secrets people would rather keep hidden. She knew how to read people, had an instinctive feeling when someone was trying to bullshit her. Bethany had tried to teach her that math was like a puzzle, just with numbers. It had half worked to where Éowyn managed to hold her temper until she was outside and hitting the punching bag her father hauled with them wherever they went.

She sighed heavily and dropped the file on her desk, rubbing the back of her neck and wishing viciously for coffee. It was too damn hot for coffee but that didn’t stop the desire for it. She supposed she could run down to the corner store and get some sodas and get her caffeine fix that way, but they were so damn sweet that they made her teeth ache. Carver couldn’t get enough of the stuff and had left empty bottles strewn all over their house as well as the office. More than once she had chucked a bottle at him in an attempt to get him to clean them up. The attempts mostly failed.

Slumping into her desk chair Éowyn stared at the board. She couldn’t help the feeling that she was missing something. She had an overabundance of clues but stringing them together proved more difficult than she had hoped. There were too many lines to pull on. She needed to eliminate suspects and eliminate them quickly if she had any hope of solving this case.

A small part of her almost wished for another attack by whomever was behind all of this. She couldn’t decide if that would complicate things even more or not but at least it would give her a way to blow off some of the frustration she was feeling.

Stretching over her desk she pulled out the note Sebastian had given her the night he had hired her.  _ Flint Company killed your family but someone else pulled the trigger. _ It was maddeningly unhelpful. Just enough to get a person digging but not enough to provide a direction in where to dig. 

“Whoever sent this couldn’t be bothered to give just a little bit more information?” Éowyn asked the empty room. It spoke of someone who was close to the mastermind. Someone who felt guilty for what happened but was too scared to do more than slip Sebastian a cryptic note.

And why now? The Vaels had been killed three years ago. What had happened to spur the anonymous note writer into action?

That was the key, she realized. Find the note writer, find the mastermind.

It was someone clever, she decided. Someone who knew to cover their tracks, hide their involvement in the whole affair. The fact that there were so many people who had benefited from the change in leadership at Vael Consolidated complicated the issue. As she had told Sebastian that first night, greed and money was a powerful motivator, making people do things they might not otherwise do.

Perhaps the note writer had initially let that greed overtake common sense but now the guilt was eating at them. She knew all about guilt and how heavy it weighed on a person. How it tore at you until it was all you could think about some days and that there was little you wouldn’t do to distract yourself for even a little while from it.

She sniffed the paper before rubbing it between her thumb and forefinger. It was of good, heavy stock. The kind that you would find in a high-end boutique where you could find all sorts of useless things to fill the spaces around you. Not cheap and not exactly something the average person would use for anonymous notes. If it had been her she would have used the cheapest and most common paper she could find, much less traceable. Card stock like this was to be used for special occasions. That the note writer had used something so noticeable indicated that money was not of much concern to them, that they thought nothing of it and it probably didn’t occur to them that by using such expensive paper it could potentially be tracked back to them.

A thought suddenly springing to mind, she yanked open one of her desk drawers and began rummaging through it. Swearing when she didn’t find what she was looking for, she opened another drawer and swore to herself that she would clean out her desk soon. Eventually. Someday. 

“Ah! There you are, you bastard.” Eowyn pulled out a large circular magnifying glass. It looked like something you might find in one of Varric’s cheesy detective novels. Isabela had given it to her as a joke when she and Carver had started up the business but it had come in handy more than once. 

She pushed a stack of files out of the way, vaguely registering the fact that half of them fell off her desk, and flattened the note on her the desk pad. With her face barely an inch above the paper, she slowly scanned the full area of the paper. This close she could see that the writing had been done by hand, a careful hand that had tried to disguise it as such. There was a slight swoop to the tail of the Ys that betrayed the note as handwritten as well as that slight bleed over effect you get when writing with ink. 

Chewing on her lip, Éowyn straightened enough to reach over and turn on her desk lamp. A strand of hair fell across her face as she twisted the lamp so the light shown upward. She held the paper over the light, moving it slowly. At the bottom right corner she found what she was looking for: a watermark. When held over the light, she could see the outlines of a mask with a sunburst behind it. Definitely from Orlais. What  _ was _ it with Kirkwall nobles’ infatuation with all things Orlais? If they liked it so much why didn’t they just move there?

But the Orlais watermark combined with the high quality paper meant that there would only be a few shops in Kirkwall that would sell it. Éowyn groaned as she realized it meant she’d had to trudge up to Hightown because there sure as hell wouldn’t be any shops in Lowtown that would sell this paper.

Perhaps it was something she could ask her--.

A knock at the door interrupted her in mid-thought. Straightening, she frowned at the door. Technically her office hours were during the week but anyone who knew her would know to find her here on a Saturday if she wasn’t out tracking down leads or dodging bullets. She tugged down the canvas over the board, covering the pictures and notes. No sense in scaring off whoever it was with crime scene photos.

Whatever she had expected to see when she opened the door it definitely wasn’t a bouquet of flowers with legs. She stared dumbfounded at it; seeing crystal grace and dawn lotus brought memories of Ferelden rushing forward. She hadn’t seen crystal grace since before they fled Lothering. 

“Miss Hawke? I got a flower delivery for you,” said a squeaky adolescent voice from behind the bouquet. A head poked around the flowers, revealing a boy that was not quite yet into his teens. An explosion of unruly red curls spiraled out from underneath a natty brown cap. Sadly, neither his hair nor the cap were enough to cover a rather unfortunate set of large ears. Hopefully the kid would grow into them one of these days.

“I can see that. Aren’t you a little young to be making deliveries, Owen?”

“A man’s gotta make his own way in the world, Miss Hawke. Can’t just sit by and wait for opportunity to knock my ma always says.”

“Well, your mother is one smart lady,” she said taking Owen’s burden from him and set it on her desk. The scent of crystal grace and dawn lotus flooded her senses bringing back memories from her childhood. Of the times she spent hiking in the woods with her father, the time when her sister had covered her bed with blossoms as a surprise for her birthday, the time her first brush with love had given her a single dawn lotus.

“Those sure are some fancy flowers, Miss Hawke. I ain’t never seen such flowers.”

“ _ I’ve _ never seen, Owen,” she corrected him absentmindedly as she lightly stroked one of the petals with her finger.

“You ain’t never seen the flowers? That’s weird. The card said you did.”

Éowyn turned and raised a brow. “And what card would that be, Owen?”

Owen flushed red through his freckles all the way up to his ears. He looked down at his feet as he dug into his back pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled card. Shuffling forward, he placed it in Éowyn’s outstretched hand. The card was of similar stock as the card the mysterious note writer had used but the writing on it was most obviously handwritten, no magnifying glass required.

> _ I’m told that crystal grace and dawn lotus are native to Ferelden and I wanted to give you a taste of home. I would have brought these in person but I was called unexpectedly back to Starkhaven this morning. I hope to return in a few days. Meanwhile, I hope these bring a smile to your lips. _
> 
> _ Yours, Sebastian _

Éowyn felt something catch in her chest.  _ Oh, you clever bastard _ , she thought even as a soft smile grew on her lips.

A soft cough behind her startled her out of the daze she’d fallen into. Turning she saw Owen, shuffling back and forth on his feet, his cap crushed between his hands. If the boy twisted it anymore he would tear it in half.

“Miss Hawke, I--.”

“Owen, if you insist on poking into places where you shouldn’t, you need to be more clever about it,” she said, frowning at him. Owen was a good boy but Kirkwall had a way of twisting good people into doing things that they shouldn’t.  “ _ However,  _ I do not think you want to break your mother’s heart by falling into a life of crime, do you?”

“No, miss. I just, I just couldn’t help myself. You don’t usually get gifts like this and I… I was curious.” The poor boy looked like all of the blood in his body had flooded to his face. Éowyn took a small bit of pity on the boy and decided not to push the matter. Unlike with Anders, she had picked up on the boy’s crush rather early on in their acquaintance. 

“I understand that curiousness Owen, I do, but what you did was an invasion of privacy. Going after bad guys is one thing, but you don’t do it to your friends. It’s rude.” 

“Yes, miss.”

“Do you have any more deliveries today?” Owen’s head shot up, confusion plastered across his young and freckled face.

“No, miss. Yours was the last. Saturday’s ain’t usually a big flower delivery day. Sunday sure is though. All those jerks trying to apologize for some dumb thing they did the night before. It don’t work much from what I can tell, cause every Sunday they’re sending more.”

Éowyn snorted despite herself. That was the way of it she supposed. Saturday night excess led all too often to Sunday morning regret. She glanced back at the flowers that Sebastian had sent her. He hadn’t sent them to apologize for leaving but more in the hope that they would make her smile. She could safely say that he succeeded in his mission.

Pulling out a fiver from her purse she handed it to Owen. “Run down to the store for me and grab a couple of sodas and we’ll call it even. You can get one for yourself too. I’m sure running all over Lowtown has made you thirsty.”

“Boy has it,” he said as he snatch the money from her hand. “I’ll be back right quick, Miss Hawke.”

And with that he was gone, barely managing to close the door on his way out in anticipation of the promised treat. She smiled as his footsteps faded. The boy was a mess of energy, it just needed direction. The fact that he was taking odd jobs boded well in that it kept him from the gangs but the fact that he felt the need to work at all at his age saddened her. Kids at his age should be playing ball or whatever it was kids were supposed to do, not running errands for shopkeepers.

Sighing, she turned back to her board and pulled back the canvas. Nothing stuck out to her as she stared at it. It was just a jumble of information, too much of it. She just needed to find that one thread that strung it all together.

She couldn’t have been studying the board for more than five minutes before there was a knock on the door. She didn’t think it was possible that Owen had run to the store and back this quickly but then the promise of a treat will make almost any person move quicker than they normally would. Why he was knocking when he knew she was expecting her was a mystery. Perhaps the gentle scolding she’d given him was reinforcing some latent manners.

“Owen, when I said run to the store I didn’t mean to make it a race,” she called out as she walked to the door. “Those sodas are going to be extra fizzy with all that bouncing.”

When she opened the door the smell of rose water filled her nose. A scent she was all too familiar with. 

“Mother. What are you doing here?”

“Does a mother need an excuse to see her daughter?”

“She does when she crosses the line between Hightown and Lowtown. I seem to remember you saying once upon a time that you wouldn’t comeback down here if your life depended on it,” Éowyn paused, taking a hard look at her mother and felt a thread of panic slice through her. “It doesn’t, does it? Has something happened? Did Quentin do something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Éowyn. Everything is fine. Honestly, not everything is a conspiracy. And I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on poor Quentin. He’s been good to me,” Leandra said as she swept into the room. Her mother was perfectly put together as she always was and didn’t have a single drop of sweat on her.  _ Must be all that blue blood running through her veins _ , Éowyn thought bitterly. One she kept to herself. The next thought was through her lips before she could stop it.

“The only reason he’s been good to you is your money and status in Hightown.”

“Now you’re being rude.”

“I’ll always be rude when it comes to Quentin. I don’t like him.”

“A fact you’ve made quite clearly time and again, but I didn’t come down here to discuss Quentin.”

“Then why  _ are _ you here, Mother? It can’t be for the sights.” It was a struggle to keep the snark in her voice to a minimum. 

“Is it so hard to imagine that I might be worried about you? This life you lead, it’s not right.”

“Well, here’s another fact I will make clearly again, since you seem incapable of remembering it, I  _ like _ my life, Mother. I do good down here. I  _ help _ people.”

“And the people in Hightown don’t need help as well? Honestly Éowyn, when did you get to be such a snob?”

Éowyn could only gape at her. A snob? A  _ snob? _ Was she fucking serious? Before she could form a coherent response Leandra was speaking again.

“I came down here because I was worried about you. I read about what happened at Vael Manor and I know that you are the unnamed blonde. I can see the bruises around your throat and the bags under your eyes. I wanted so much more for you than this. So did your father.”

Éowyn had to consciously close her mouth and take a deep breath. “Well, Dad died long before he could really tell me what kind of life he hoped for me, for all of us.”

“I suppose he did, but I can’t imagine that this would be it.” Leandra turned to her, a slight sheen to her eyes. “He always said you were meant for great things. That you had this spark in you. You were always his favorite, you know, from the moment you were born. You charmed him the first time you smiled at him. Your father had you and I had the twins.”

_ And now you have neither of them _ , Éowyn thought.  _ It’s just me and you don’t know quite what to do with me. _

As if echoing her thoughts, Leandra continued, “I never really knew what to do with you. You were so different from what I expected to have for a daughter. You preferred to run wild than take lessons in decorum. You got in fights and were most unladylike. You had no interest in being charming or pleasing in the way that I was raised. You always forged your own path regardless of what others around you thought,” Leandra paused, focusing her gaze back on Éowyn. “I was unbelievably harsh and cruel to you after Bethany died. And then again when Carver left. I wrongly blamed you for their leaving. I… I broke something between us due to my own selfishness. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I did what no parent should ever have done.”

All Éowyn could do was stare at her mother. Never in a million years would she have thought to hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ from her mother’s lips. So many years of hostility and disapproval had passed that she had developed a thick armor against her mother’s behavior towards her. Of course that didn’t mean she didn’t feel it on some level, so to hear her mother apologize now threw her for a loop.

“I’m not sure what you expect me to say here,” she said carefully.

“I don’t expect you to say anything. I just, seeing that article in the paper, knowing that it was you, and then coming here and seeing those bruises, it just,” Leandra took a deep breath before looking straight at Éowyn. “It just put it into focus just how dangerous the life you lead is. I know you’ve played down the danger you put yourself in, and maybe I’ve willingly let myself be deceived of that and focused on other aspects of your life, like the company you keep. That’s why when I saw you with Sebastian Vael I thought maybe, just maybe you were,,, well, I think you can guess what I thought.”

Silence fell between them. Éowyn still unsure of what to say and her mother not knowing what else to say. It took a force of will for Éowyn not to shift to block the flowers Sebastian had sent her. Surely if her mother saw them it would send her into a tizzy and everything she had just said would be forgotten in the face of her hopes that Éowyn would leave the life she was living. 

Rather than focusing on the flowers however, her mother’s gaze landed on her murder board. Her mother’s gloved hand went up to her chest and clutched her Andraste pendant. Éowyn swore and moved over to cover it.

“No, don’t cover it. You shouldn’t have to hide your life from me.”

“I’m not hiding it. You shouldn’t have to see crime scene photos.”

Leandra leveled her with a steely gaze. “Éowyn Hawke, I saw more than enough blood when we left Ferelden, I think I can handle this.”

Helpless, Éowyn watched her mother step up to the board. Rather than looking at the crime scene photos however, she focused on her list of suspects. A slight frown marred her face as she looked closer.

“You have Guillaume de Launcet on here.”

“There are many people who would have benefited from the Vael’s deaths. The de Launcets are just one.”

“Guillaume has a good head on his head despite his choice in the woman he married. I cannot believe he would have have anything to do with this.”

“You know him?”

Her mother gave a most unladylike snort. “I would hope so. I was engaged to marry him. I didn’t love him but I did enjoy his company.”

“Then why did you agree to marry him if you didn’t love him?”

“It was arranged between our families, we didn’t have anything to do with it. The wedding was three months away when I met your father, and, well, you know how that ended.”

Éowyn had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from saying, that while she knew how it ended, she didn’t know how it started. Despite the close connection she’d had with her father, he didn’t talk too much about his years in Kirkwall beyond the fact that he had met and wooed Leandra there before they left for Ferelden. 

“I don’t know some of these names on here, though I do recognize a few and all of them ambitious and two-faced to the core. Why I had Johane and Flora over for tea a couple of weeks ago and Johane complimented on Orana’s baking in one breath and insulted her heritage in the next. It was quite rude but then Johane’s always been a bit rude. To her credit, Flora looked quite embarrassed by her mother’s behavior. Thank the Maker that Flora hasn’t inherited any of Johane’s nastiness. She even asked for Orana’s chocolate souffle recipe,” Leandra paused. “Johane’s behavior wasn’t as bad when her father was alive, the last few years however, well, let’s just say that she doesn’t get invited to many gatherings in Hightown. I’m sure it was quite a blow to her ego when the invitations slowed to a trickle. Oh, she still gets invited to the big events, but those little, personal ones that  _ really _ mean something, well, those have been few and far between.”

“And yet you saw fit to invite her for tea.”

“I did that more for Flora’s benefit than Johane’s. She shouldn’t have to suffer because of her mother’s behavior. Johane Harimann has been trying for years to get Flora married into a good family. Rumor has it that she’s cast her net outside of Kirkwall, as far as Starkhaven and Ostwick.”

“Has she now?” Éowyn murmured, eyeing her board more carefully. She had only met Johane Harimann once, and her mother’s appraisal of the woman was accurate. It had been blessedly short, but long enough for Éowyn to be glad that she didn’t have to interact with the woman on a regular basis.

“Oh yes. Rumor has it that she felt she was settling when she married Ruxton, that she felt she deserved better than some minor lord in Kirkwall. Dulci de Launcet is similar but is such an idiot that she lacks Johane’s ruthlessness.” Leandra paused again, this time turning fully to Éowyn. “I know that you don’t care much for Hightown nobles, or nobles period for that matter, but they can be just as nasty and dangerous as any of the mob bosses and gangs you’ll find here in Lowtown, if not more so in some ways. Please be careful. I can’t loose another… are those dawn lotuses?”

_ Shit. _

Before she could stop her, Leandra walked over to the bouquet and reverently touched one of the soft petals just as Éowyn had done not long ago.

“I’ve not seen these since we fled Ferelden. Your father used to give them to me. Didn’t need a special occasion or anything. He did it just because he knew I liked them. It’s a special kind of person who does things like that.”

“Yes, yes it is.”

Silence fell between them. The only sound in the room was the creaking fan and the radio, now with Dina Washington crooning though the speaker.

“Well. I’ve taken up more than enough of your time.” Her eyes strayed back to the bouquet one last time with something like sadness and nostalgia crossing her face.. “Whoever sent you those… well, it’s none of my business, I’m sure, but whoever he is, I’m sure he’s a good man.”

Whatever answer Éowyn could have given was interrupted by Owen near crashing through the door, sodas in hand and what suspiciously looked like a chocolate smear across his lips.

“I got those sodas you asked for Miss Hawke. Sorry it took so long, but they’re still cold. Honest. I, oh, you got company. I guess I shoulda knocked but I knew you wanted these and I didn’t want them to get warm.”

“It’s okay, Owen. Thank you for getting me the sodas. You should run home now. I’m sure your mother could benefit from your work ethic.”

“Oh my ma’s tough as nails. She don’t need nobody’s help.” At Éowyn’s raised eyebrow, he continued hurriedly. “But I’m sure she’s got something she might need help with. If not she’ll kick me out of the house, tell me to go play in the street or something.”

“She would do  _ what? _ ” Éowyn turned to see a look of absolute horror on her mother’s face and it took everything within her not to laugh.

“He’s not serious, Mother. He tends to exaggerate like most thirteen-year-olds do.”

“Oh, well, I suppose that’s okay then. Though you shouldn’t go around saying such things about your mother, young man. People might get the wrong idea.”

Owen’s eyes widened slightly at the realization and then the cocky grin was back. “Yes, ma’am, but people around here know better than to mess with my mum. She’s tough as nails, just like Miss Hawke.”

“She must be a formidable woman indeed then.” She turned back to Éowyn. “Please do consider coming to the manor some time for tea. Perhaps, well, please consider it.

Her mother glided through the door much as she entered. Leaving the scent of rose water trailing behind her. 

“She’s your mum? Honest?”

“Yes, yes she is Owen.”

“No offense, Miss Hawke, but she’s  _ way _ fancy. Fancy ladies like her shouldn’t be down here. People could take advantage. You want me to follow her? Make sure no one bothers her.”

“That’s very kind of you, Owen, but my mother is tough as nails just like yours. I’d pay good money to see some poor sap try and take her purse. She’s freeze them in their spot with a glare.”

Owen looked doubtful. “If you say so, Miss Hawke.” Then his brain switched gears with lightning speed, as thirteen-year-olds were wont to do. “Can I have that soda now?”

Éowyn chuckled, pulling the bottle opener out of a drawer and tossing it to him. As Owen struggled with the opener, her gaze drifted over to her board. Owen seems blissfully ignorant of it, something she was grateful for. It was tempting to walk over and cover it, but doing so would just attract his attention and she did much want to deal with a thirteen-year-old’s sense of the macabre. 

She mused on what her mother had said about Johane Harimann. From what Leandra had said, there was more than enough ambition and greed there to orchestrate the Vaels’ deaths, but hunches didn’t pay for much. She needed hard evidence before she could move in on them and she needed it before they felt the noose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 08/21/16: Hey guys. I'm really sorry about the delay in getting this out. I'm trying to be better about it and actually had 75% of this written in early-mid July but a lot of shit happened between now and then and I just didn't have the energy to get the other 25% done until today. It was actually the Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day that kicked me in the ass to get chapter 10 done. I'm going to try to post new chapters on a more regular basis but I can't promise that it will happen. The best I can say is that I'm going to try. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed chapter 10. Leave a kudos and drop a comment if you did. Thanks again everyone. Know that I appreciate every one of you who've stuck with me thus far and everyone who's new to the story as well.


	11. Chapter 11

Over the course of the next week Éowyn was bogged down in the minutiae of being a private investigator. Many people had romanticized visions of what being a private investigator was like. Contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t all shoot-outs and clandestine meetings; much of it could be considered boring and monotonous by some. A lot of it was sifting through paperwork and sitting in a car tailing people who you hoped to catch in the act of doing whatever shenanigans her client thought they were up to. Stake outs were boring. It was hours of sitting in a car or lurking in darkened alleys, drinking cold and stale coffee, and needing to pee. At least when Carver had been around she’d had something to help pass the time. Nowadays she had to amuse herself while on stakeouts and there were only so many crossword puzzles a girl could do.

Fortunately the Harimann family provided her some entertainment value. At least the male members did anyway if one found various forms of debauchery entertaining.

Brett Harimann and his father Ruxton frequented some of Kirkwall’s more unsavory places, including no less than two lyrium dens, a so-called bar whose liquor could strip paint, and a brothel on the docks that had seen better days. Their debauchery knew no bounds and she found it more than a little bizarre that a father and son would participate in said activities together. She didn’t even want to guess what they did behind closed doors, but more than one of their activities crossed into that ugly grey area that turned Éowyn’s stomach. Even if it turned out that the Harimanns had nothing to do with the death of Sebastian’s family, she had more than enough evidence to turn over to Aveline for an investigation. Éowyn wasn’t sure what all Johane Harimann knew about her husband’s and son’s extracurricular activities, but considering how socially conscious and ambitious the woman was, Éowyn was surprised that the guy hadn’t been shunted off to the Chantry or cut off from his trust fund.

Then again, people tended to give men more leeway in their behavior than they do women. That whole ‘boys will be boys’ mentality pervaded every aspect of society, something that she had beaten her head against more than once.

Flora Harimann was the exact opposite of her brother and father. She attended all the right schools, socialized with the right people, and tended to fade into the background whenever possible. The girl lived her life under her mother’s thumb and it showed: one hair out of place, one perceived roll of the eyes, any attempt at independence was squashed under Johane Harimann’s iron fist. Éowyn suspected that sometimes that was literally. One didn’t wear high-collared blouses and long sleeves in the middle of a Kirkwall summer unless they were hiding something or going to a funeral.

By Wednesday she had been able to confirm that the elder Harimann and his son were indeed going to be at The Blooming Rose on Friday night. Isabela had made a point of it to make sure everyone knew that she was debuting a new set and just about everywhere Éowyn went she heard people talking about it.

She had let Isabela know that she would be making an appearance at the club which prompted her friend to drag her into Elegant’s boutique on Thursday for a dress, no, _evening gown_ , for the occasion. She had also conned her into getting matching bag, shoes, and jewelry, as well as a new suit to replace the one that had been destroyed during the fight at Vael Manor. Éowyn really didn’t know how she let Isabela talk her into all of it but when it came to shopping Isabela was like a force of nature and nearly impossible to say no to. And when you combined her with Elegant, well, Éowyn knew when she was beat.

They had spent what Éowyn considered an inordinate amount of time perusing Elegant’s selection. If it had been up to Éowyn, she would have picked the first one she saw that fit and be done with it, but neither Isabela nor Elegant would hear of it. In fact they had actually looked slightly horrified at her suggestion. Because they were friends, she put up with it and their prodding and poking.

The dress she ended up with was a deep emerald green that shimmered in the light when she moved. It cinched tightly around her waist and fell loosely down her long legs. Its sweetheart neckline scooped low enough to tantalize but high enough to where she didn’t feel like she was going to fall out of it. Thick straps wound up around her neck, leaving her back bare. It was definitely one of the most daring dresses she’d ever worn and not something she would have picked out if left to her own devices but she had to admit that it looked damn good.

Hopefully she’d get through the evening without getting blood on it. Isabela would probably murder her if she ruined it. Especially considering that she had paid for it. Éowyn had tried to argue with her on that but Isabela had insisted.

“Darling, consider it an early birthday present. You never get anything nice for yourself,” she had said.

“My birthday was last month.”

Isabela simply waved her hand. “A belated birthday present then. And if Choir Boy sees you in this, he won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”

Éowyn had rolled her eyes at that, insisting that she wasn’t getting the dress for him but it had fallen on deaf ears. She could have cheerfully murdered her friend when she mentioned Sebastian in front of Elegant. Thank the Maker that she hadn’t told Isabela about the flowers he had sent her. She would have never gotten out of Elegant’s dress shop alive.

Andraste help her, but give her a good brawl any day over shopping.

It was now Friday and the heat in her office had finally gotten to her and she could only stare at her board for so long, so around mid-afternoon she packed up, stuffing files into her satchel and headed home. It was only marginally cooler at home, having actual windows that actually opened usually helped with that.

The flowers Sebastian had sent her were sitting on her kitchen table. A couple of petals had fallen but otherwise they looked as fresh as the day they had been delivered. His note had stated that he would be out of town for a couple of days and it was now almost a week. She tried not to dwell on it, tried to not think about why she hadn’t heard from him besides a brief telegram stating that he was unavoidably detained in Starkhaven longer than he had anticipated. One would think that he would check in just to see if there were any developments in the case. It was possible that he had called while she was out of the office and she had just missed his call, which made a good case to get an assistant of some type. Too bad she couldn’t afford one.

Éowyn wrinkled her nose at the direction her thoughts were going. They hadn’t known each other that long and had only shared one kiss, albeit one of the best kisses she had ever had, but that by no means meant anything. She had no claim on him and she refused to be one of those clingy women.

Still didn’t mean that she couldn’t be slightly annoyed at the lack of communication.

Standing in front of her mirror she studied herself critically. The bruises around her neck had faded but you could definitely see them if you were close enough. With her hair pulled back in a loose chignon and the silver necklace you could barely see them. She wanted to draw as little attention as possible and having people ask what had happened would do the exact opposite.

Night was starting to fall by the time she left the house. A weak breeze teased at the hem of her dress as she walked to her car. Glancing up at the sky she saw no clouds, only the faint dim light of stars and the twin moons. Only half-full, they hung in the sky, seemingly chasing each other across the sky.

Heat pressed down on the city and it was starting to get to people. There were two types of people she passed on her way to Hightown: the ones who surrendered to the heat and sat listlessly on porches drinking lukewarm beer, and the ones who let the heat get to them and let their fists fly. People got stupid during times like this. Stupid and violent, and others suffered for it.

Éowyn tried not to focus only on the dark side of Kirkwall but the city itself and the nature of her job made it difficult. There were good people here, it was just that Kirkwall itself seemed to feed the bad more than the good. Feed a beast long enough and it would become a thing you couldn’t control. There were elements who would love to see the city burn, others who wanted to put the chains back on the people and force them to live under their rules. Kirkwallers were not that easily cowed though. They tended to fight back and some fought dirtier than others.

Perhaps in retrospect it wasn’t all that surprising that the person behind the Vael murders was from Kirkwall.

Hightown was a madhouse of cars and people by the time she got there. She almost wished that she had just taken the trolley, but she needed to be mobile in case one of her quarry rabbited.

The congestion got only worse the closer she got to The Blooming Rose. It had been a while since she had been at the club, even longer since she’d been there on a Friday night, and she had forgotten just how popular the club was with all walks of life. As she drove by she saw that the small courtyard outside the building was packed with people all glitzed out for the evening. Valets moved quickly but the line backed up traffic to two blocks away despite their best efforts. Two street cops directed traffic, trying to contain the chaos. Éowyn could only imagine the headache this was giving Aveline.

She was idling at the corner about a block away, debating on her next move when someone tapped on her window. A young man, tall and gangly with still enough shine on him that let her know that he probably wasn’t there to cause trouble. She figured Isabela had sent him, a suspicion confirmed as soon as she rolled down the window.

“Miss Hawke, Miss Isabela said you were coming tonight. She wanted to make sure that you had no troubles getting in, so she instructed me to keep an eye out for you. We’ve got a place for your car in the back, I can take it there so you can enter in the front,” he paused. “It’ll be close in case you need to leave quickly. I’ll be nearby so just let me know and I’ll get it for you right quick.”

Éowyn pursed her lips, slightly annoyed at Isabela’s interference, but not having to deal with the traffic around the club was an unexpected bonus, and Isabela knew her well enough that she’d most likely need that quick exit.

“Best pay close attention then. I don’t anticipate trouble but you never know.”

“Oh, I know, Miss. I was here the last time you, ah, visited.”

“Uh huh,” she said, thinking back to the mess she’d left. “Sorry about that. Some guys just don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

“Right you are, Miss Hawke. If you ask me, those louts deserved the beating you gave them.”

Éowyn chuckled as she gathered up her clutch. “Don’t let Isabela or Madame Lusine hear you say that.”

“Oh no, Miss. I like my job too much to do that.”

“I’m sure. What’s your name, kid?”

“It’s Osric, Miss. Been here about a year doing odd jobs for Miss Isabela.”

“Well, that’ll keep you busy if not out of trouble.” Stepping out of the car, she handed the keys to Osric. “How’s your driving?”

Osric grinned. “No accidents or tickets, Miss. I’m real careful.”

“Careful at driving or careful not to get caught?”

The kid paused. “Both?”

“Heh, good answer. I think we’re going to do just fine.” She shut the door behind him before adding, “She gets a bit sticky between first and second, just give her some gas. She can be a bit temperamental, but she’s sound. Just got a clean bill of health from the mechanic.”

“She won’t get a scratch, Miss Hawke, not from me,” he promised. Éowyn couldn’t help but snort.

“Kid, she’s had worse than a scratch before. She’ll survive the short trip to the parking lot.”

“Yes, Miss. Enjoy your evening.”

Éowyn watched as the kid eased her car into traffic and disappeared around the corner, zipping in and out of traffic with a practiced ease. Satisfied that her car was in good hands, Éowyn made her way across the street to the entrance to the club. Being close friends with one of the owners enabled her to get through the doors without too much hassle.The smell of tobacco smoke, perfume, and booze washed over her as she entered the main room. Waitresses wove between the tables throughout the room, delivering food and alcohol of all types to The Blooming Rose’s patrons. The area around the bar was packed two deep, keeping the three bartenders almost as busy as the waitresses.

Madame Lusine herself stood at the maitre de podium, her eyes narrowing when she saw Éowyn. Éowyn flashed her a bright smile and breezed past her to the bar, not giving the woman a chance to stop her. She could feel Lusine’s glare as she passed and just shrugged it off. It was no secret that the woman blamed her for the fight that had damaged several tables and chairs and had harbored a grudge ever since, but she couldn’t outright ban her from the club like she had with Gamlan, not when Éowyn was close friends with the headliner and part-owner.

Jethann was on stage doing his own spin on Édith Piaf’s greatest hits, currently belting out _Milord_ while his dancers tapped their hearts out behind him. Not for the first time she wondered what the Orlesian singer would think of him. Considering she was one of Orlais’ most popular cabaret singers she’d probably love it.

The crowd around the bar had thinned some by the time she reached it. Before she could say a word, a glass of whiskey neat was placed before her. Éowyn raised an eyebrow at the white-haired bartender.

“Maker’s balls, did she put an advertisement in the paper that I’d be here?”

Fenris chuckled deeply, the sound rolling over her. He really had an amazing voice and could croon with the best of them, but no amount of coercion or begging from Isabela or Lusine could get him in front of a microphone. The man preferred to stay either behind the bar or at the piano, letting others take front stage. He could be quite gruff and standoffish but that didn’t stop countless women and more than a few men from shamelessly flirting with him. Not that he paid them much mind. Though she knew some saw him and Isabela as an odd pair, she could think of no two people who were better matched.

“Not as such, no. But she did think it wise to notify certain people of your presence tonight. Madame Lusine was not happy when Isabela told her.”

“I have no doubt about that. You get involved in one tiny fight and she holds it against you forever.”

Fenris choked back a laugh. “Hawke, that ‘tiny fight’ as you put it closed down the club for two days to give us time to clean up and replace broken furniture.”

“I honestly don’t know why people are blaming me for that incident. I didn’t start it.”

“You sure as hell finished it though.”

“Damn skippy I did. Those assholes deserved it.” She took a sip from her glass and raised an eyebrow at Fenris. “What did I do to rate the good stuff? You trying to bribe me into behaving Fenris?”

He snorted. “As if you would accept a bribe. Consider it more of an incentive,” he said, pouring a glass for himself.

“Two sides of the same coin there my friend,” she said with a wink and raised her glass to his, the clink lost in the buzz of the room. The liquor slid down her throat, leaving a warm trail in its wake.

“So if you’re not here to cause trouble, what are you here for?”

“Information. The Harimann men aren’t subtle about their vices and I’m hoping the proper application of alcohol can loosen their lips. They’re trouble and don’t seem to care much about who gets in their way.”

“You could say that. They’ve been semi-regulars for years but it’s only been the last couple of years that they’ve caused trouble. I’ve had to haul them out of here more than once. The girls don’t like serving them.”

Éowyn’s eyes narrowed. “If they’re such trouble, why haven’t they been banned? Hell, I sneeze the wrong way an Lusine wants to draw and quarter me.”

“Boils down to money and their connections, namely the matriarch Johane Harimann. If I had my way, they would have been banned years ago, but Lusine won’t hear of it.”

“Isabela can’t be happy about that.”

“Ha, no, that she is not. They came to a compromise.”

“A compromise? What do you… ah shit, you mean me, don’t you?”

“You are a singular woman, Hawke; you tend to leave an impression.”

“And not always a good one, I get it.”

“You do good work, Hawke. A lot of people in Kirkwall can attest to that.”

“Tell that to my bank account,” she murmured as she downed the rest of her whiskey. “When’s she on?”

“Not for another hour or so. Jethann has about another fifteen minutes and then there’s a break.”

“Well, here’s hoping that I can get the information I need before she comes on. Speaking of, where are these two assholes?” She slid her glass across the bar back at Fenris, to which he obligingly refilled for her as he nodded toward the back of the room.

“In their usual booth, second row to the left of the stage. Just the two of them tonight. They usually have a whole gaggle of broads around them but tonight it’s just the two of them. Seem intent on drinking half the bar.”

Éowyn glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, the two Harimanns were firmly entrenched in their booth, heads close together in what looked like a heated conversation. Well, she thought, isn’t that interesting.

“Is that so? Then maybe they’ll be willing to buy a lonely girl a drink.”

“You going to run a scam on them? Brave, considering they might know who you are.”

“You kidding me? In this dress? I tug this neckline down an half an inch and they won’t be looking at my face. Men are predictable in that way. Most of them anyway. Those two especially.”

Fenris chuckled. “You sure do got a pair on you Hawke.”

“Hey, if it gets the job done it’s no skin off my nose. Wish me luck.”

Grabbing her drink off the bar, she balanced in it one hand as she slid her clutch between her fingers, making like she was looking for something. She tottered on her feet a little as she approached the Harimanns, giving the impression that perhaps she’d had one too many. She’d run the scam before with varying degrees of success and suspected that based on their’ past behavior that the chances were high that it would work again. They were just smart enough to think they were smarter than everyone else, especially a woman, which is why the con worked so well.

As she passed their table she let her heel slide forward, dropping both her drink and purse in the process.

“Oh dammit, that’s just perfect,” she said, putting a little hitch into her voice, lilting her accent so that it sounded as if she were from Ostwick rather than Ferelden, gambling that the Harimann’s would be slightly more receptive to another Free Marcher than a Fereldan.

“You okay there?”

Éowyn looked up to see Brett Harimann leering down at her over the table. Ruxton remained where he was, reclining lazily against the booth, cigar clenched between his teeth.

“Oh, I’m fine. If you mean by fine in that I’ve been stood up by my fiance. My _fiance_ if you can believe that. He promised me a night out on the town, a _special_ night, but apparently he had important _business_ to attend to. Who has important business to attend to on a Friday night?”

“He left a gorgeous gal like you alone? He clearly doesn’t deserve you. Why don’t you join me and my father for a drink. My treat,” he said as he extended his hand to help her up and into the booth, his fingers lingering longer than it was socially acceptable for a non-acquainted man to touch a woman.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you, it is, but I think maybe I should just go home.”

“Nonsense, a pretty thing like you deserves to have attention lavished upon her.”

Éowyn chewed on her bottom lip, making like she was conflicted in her decision to stay or go.

“Well, perhaps just one drink couldn’t hurt.”

“There’s a girl,” he said, signaling for a waitress. “What are you drinking, sweetheart?

“Antivan whiskey, neat.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “A woman who knows her liquor, I’m impressed,” he paused, addressing the waitress. “Another Antivan whiskey for the lady. I’m Brett by the way, this is my dad Ruxton. What’s your name?”

“Daisy. Daisy Werhly.”

“You don’t sound like you’re from Kirkwall, Daisy. May I call you Daisy?”

“Oh sure. Everyone does and no, I’m not from here. My family’s from Ostwick.” She made a moue with her face, pretending hurt. “I came here with my fiance as a vacation of sorts.”

“Forgive me if this is too forward, but your fiance sounds like an idiot if he’s left you to fend for yourself.”

“Oh, he’s a good man, just busy with his work. He has a lot of interests everywhere and looking to expand them. I just get a little frustrated when he doesn’t check in with me or cancels plans at the last minute.” She gave a little huff before plastering a smile on her face. “What do you do, Brett?”

“A little of this, a little of that. Various enterprises and such, mainly import and export. We have a mine north of the city that’s quite profitable. Keeps a roof over our heads so to speak.”

Éowyn gave an internal snort. Import and export was usually code for mob activity and she knew what mine he was talking about and the Harimanns did not own a single share of the mine. She knew this for the simple fact that the mine was in her mother’s name.

“A mine, my goodness. I’ve heard that working in a mine can be quite dangerous. I read an article about a cave-in where several miners were trapped for days. It was so horrible. Those poor men.”

“Accidents do happen, to be sure, my dear, but you shouldn’t worry yourself over such things. And we have workers that do the heavy work. Come, let’s speak of happier things. Is this your first time in Kirkwall? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before and I’m pretty sure I would remember you.”

“Why, aren’t you a flirt? Careful, that could get you into trouble,” she said, tapping her clutch on his forearm. “No, this is my first time here. My fiance has a home near the Chantry in Hightown. It’s quite nice, not nearly as drafty as my parents’ manor back in Ostwick. And this is such an exciting city too, if not a bit warm. I’m not used to this heat.”

“It does take some getting used to I suppose for someone who hasn’t lived here all their lives,” Brett said, and, just like she had told Fenris, his eyes wandered everywhere but her face. His father Ruxton however, who had yet to say a single word, was more restrained, taking in her whole appearance and seemed to be the more sober of the two. She’d have to tread carefully there.

“Kirkwall does seem like quite a mix of different things. I didn’t expect the Chantry to have such a strong influence here. Why I couldn’t walk five feet in Hightown without running into a brother or sister. It must be so comforting for everyone to have such ready access for guidance.”

“My daughter is the devout in the family, goes to service twice a week,” said Ruxton. “She prays enough to make up for the rest of us. Don’t get much out of it myself. I dare say she’d join if her mother would let her.”

“Why not let her? I mean, if that’s what she wants.”

“I really couldn’t care less what the girl does, but Johane, her mother, has big plans for her. Wants her to marry well into society and all that; increase our social station.” He gave a slight eye roll as he spoke, and that slight gesture said much more about his feelings about his daughter than his words. Éowyn wondered if the girl knew about her father’s indifference. All signs pointed toward yes. She also couldn’t help but marvel about Ruxton’s willingness to disparage his own kin in front of a total stranger. It spoke volumes about his character.

“Well, I’m sure that you and your wife knows what’s best.” she said as neutrally as possible, squelching down on her nausea.

“I learned a while ago it’s just best to let Mother have her way on certain things. She has very definite ideas about what’s proper and such.”

“Don’t all mothers do that though?”

“Some more than others, I think. Mother’s… unique I guess would be the word.”

Before Éowyn could respond the room erupted in applause. On the stage, Jethann and his dancers were taking their bows. As he straightened, Jethann spotted Éowyn and winked, a broad smile curving his lips as he tossed the flower from his lapel into the audience.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I thank you for your kind applause. Nothing pleases me more than to know that you are enjoying your evening. Well, _almost_ nothing,” he said with a wink, causing the audience to burst into laughter. “But I know it’s not me you’re here to see tonight. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the rumors are true. Our very own Isabela will grace us with her presence very shortly with some new songs and I can guarantee you that you will not be disappointed. So go powder those noses gents and freshen up your drinks ladies, because this will be a show you will not want to miss.”

The crowd exploded with applause as Jethann bowed again before exiting the stage. The house band struck up some light background music as the servers came out in force to refill drinks and cigars.

“Well, he’s quite the character, isn’t he? I do wish my fiance could be here, this place is fantastic. I hear that the headliner Isabela puts on quite a show.”

“Yes, she is quite a talent, our Isabela, but not well known outside of Kirkwall, I’m afraid. Such a shame too, all of Thedas should be able to appreciate her voice.”

 _Voice my ass_ , she thought, working to keep her smile on her face. In the ten minutes since she had sat down, she had discovered enough to be fairly certain that neither of the Harimann men knew anything about the Vael murders. Johane Harimann was the powerhouse of the family. Never underestimate a socialite’s ambition.

Before she could excuse herself, she sighted a tall figure walking past the bar, his eyes scanning the room. Maker’s balls, she thought, _now_ he decides to make an appearance? She needed to cut him off before he broke her cover. As it was, suspicions were going to be raised, especially with the story she had spun for the Harimanns.

“Well, would you look at that. He decided to show up after all.” She laid a hand on Brett’s forearm. “Thank you for keeping me company, but you must excuse me, I have a fiance that I need to give a piece of my mind to.”

“Let me speak to the scoundrel, tell him how to treat a lady.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I can handle myself.”

She started to slide out of the booth when Brett’s hand tightened around her wrist. “I really wish you would stay. You’d have a lot more fun with us.”

Éowyn narrowed her eyes at him, yanking her hand away and stood up before he could grab her again. “I’m sure you do, but I really have to go.”

She swept out of the booth and marched over to where Sebastian stood, her skirts swirling around her legs in her haste to get away from the Harimanns.

As she neared him, Sebastian’s eyes lit up with something she didn’t want to put a name to and guilt twisted in her stomach as she thought of what she was about to do but saw no other way out.

“Éowyn, you look-,”

“I’m sorry for this,” she interrupted when she was about a foot away.

His brow furrowed, puzzlement clearly written across his face. “Sorry for what?”

“This.”

The sound of her palm against his cheek cracked throughout the room. Several patrons turned to look, shocked gasps coming from several of them and more than a few snickers from some. It took everything she had to stay in character when she saw the look on his face.

“You were supposed to be here an hour ago. It’s a good thing that I love you, but you can’t keep treating me like this, Sebastian. I’m your fiance, sometimes I have to come first.” She let her voice carry, allowing those around them to hear. She didn’t turn around but she was certain that the Harimanns were watching.

“I’m sorry?” Confusion with not a little bit of anger washed over his face.

“As you should be,” she said, her breath hitching a little, more than she wanted it to. Dammit, she couldn’t get emotional about this, not right now, not when she knew that the Harimanns were watching. Over Sebastian’s shoulder she saw Madame Lusine preparing to bear down on them, her already pinched face red and more scrunched up since the last time Éowyn had been involved in an incident in the club. “Shit, we should go. Quickly.”

She grabbed Sebastian’s arm and pulled him toward the back of the club. Over the murmur of the crowd she could hear Fenris chuckling as they passed the bar and couldn’t help but think that she had just damned herself. The elite of Kirkwall may not know her face but they sure as hell knew Sebastian’s and she had just publicly linked herself with him. It was a guarantee that there was at least one tabloid journo in the club with a camera who would be more than happy to get a shot of them.

And add to that, the Harimanns sure as shit knew Sebastian, and it was only a matter of time before Johane Harimann found out about tonight and Sebastian’s alleged fiance.

Yep. She was certain of it now. She had definitely damned herself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahoy! Smut ahead.

She managed to get him as far as the dressing rooms behind the stage before Sebastian dug in his heels and no amount of tugging could get him to budge. Resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to get him out of there without giving at least a little bit more of an explanation, Éowyn sighed.

“Look, I am sorry for the slap but it was necessary due to the part I was playing. I didn’t expect you to show up here and you calling me by my real name would have mucked everything up.”

“Mucked everything up? Care to elaborate?”

“We don’t have time for this. Come on, let’s go.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to get you to leave until I say something, are you?” When he did nothing more than raise an eyebrow she simply sighed then looked around. “Fine, you stubborn ass. But we’re not doing this out in the hallway. Madame Lusine already hates me enough as it is. In here.”

He hesitated slightly as she pushed open a door to a dressing room; Isabela’s dressing room to be exact. Her friend was sitting in front of her lighted mirror, touching up her makeup when they entered but stopped what she was doing and spun around in her chair.

“Hawke, darling,” she drawled. “As happy as I am that you’re here tonight, I didn’t expect you to visit my dressing room. Nor with such a handsome guest. This must be your much lauded client, Sebastian Vael.”

“Please Isabela, I don’t have a lot of time, can we have the room for five minutes?” At Sebastian’s frown, she added, “Ten minutes. I promise I won’t break anything.”

“Darling, of course, but ten minutes is hardly enough time for some quality hanky-panky. Normally only Fenris and I get to have sex in here. I’m not running a brothel here.”

“We’re not here to have sex, Isabela,” she told her even as she felt her cheeks heat up. “We just need to have a little chat in private before we can leave.”

“A chat is it? That’s an interesting euphemism. Not quite sure that it works though.” At Éowyn’s growl, she relented her teasing. “Oh fine. I’m need to talk to Fenris anyway before we go on.” She slid fluidly out of her chair, her dress slinking over her form like water. Her eyes flicked from Éowyn and zeroed in on Sebastian. “Do try not to tear her dress, Choir Boy. It’s new.”

Éowyn closed her eyes and counted to ten, waiting until she heard the door close. She could hear Madame Lusine demanding to know her whereabouts and imagined Isabela giving her some flippant reply before sauntering away.

“Choir Boy?”

Éowyn cringed. “Yeah, sorry about that. Isabela can be… colorful.”

“So I see.” He walked further into the room, hands in his pockets as he turned and centered his gaze fully on her. To a less observant person, one might assume that he was as cool as a cucumber, but Éowyn knew better. He was closer to a fiery jalapeno right now.

“It would seem then that you’ve narrowed down the list of suspects.”

Éowyn paused, choosing her words carefully. “Yes, it took some doing but I believe that we have a very good suspect.”

“How is it that you’ve managed to do this in what, two weeks and change, when the guard are still clueless?”

“Because I’m very, very good at my job, Sebastian. I also have, alternative methods of investigation that aren’t open to the guard.”

“I’m guessing that includes going undercover in a nightclub?”

“Yes,” she said, tilting up her chin. “I had reliable information that Brett and Ruxton Harimann would be here tonight and I needed information that they wouldn’t have given to any guard member on the planet.”

Sebastian’s posture stiffened, his jaw tightening. “The Harimanns? I thought the men you were sitting with looked familiar. You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be without a written confession. But it’s not those two who were behind the plot, it’s Johane Harimann, I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t understand. The Harimanns were good family friends of my parents. Lord Harimann and my father spent many weekends quail hunting. Why would she do this?”

“I’ve said it before, money is a powerful motivator. Status as well. From what I gathered Johane Harimann is quite eager to climb the social ladder and signs point toward her being willing to do whatever it takes to get both.”

Sebastian was silent for several moments, his eyes growing distant, before turning away from her, putting his hands on the dressing table. His jacket stretched across his broad shoulders and she could feel the tension roll off him from several feet away. It couldn’t have been easy to hear that, but he _had_ hired her to find out the truth of what happened to his family. A lot of the time that truth was ugly.

“I need to do more digging, turn what I’ve found over to Aveline, but you should have justice for your family soon.”

The sound of his fist slamming into the table startled her. It occurred to her that she’d never seen him angry, not really, not to where he wanted to hit something. Sure he had skewered the thug in Starkhaven who’d been choking her, but that was in the midst of a fight and adrenaline, not in the middle of a conversation.

“What’s to guarantee that if you do turn over what you’ve found to the guard that anything will come from it? Will they even trust what you’ve found?”

Éowyn pressed her lips together at his words, struggling to reign in her temper. “Aveline Vallen is one of the best people I know. No one is more committed to rule and law than she is. And it’s more than that, she believes in justice and she believes in me. Trust me, if I bring her the information, she’ll act on it.”

Sebastian pushed away from the table, turning back toward her. The heat in his eyes made them seem even bluer than they were normally, and against her will, a tiny curl of desire twisted within her. Dammit, now was not the time for this.

“I do trust you, Éowyn. This is just a lot to take in.”

There was something in his tone that set alarm bells off in her head.

“You’re not going to do something stupid, are you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Maker’s balls, Sebastian, you know exactly what I mean. You cannot confront Johane Harimann. She’ll bury you, probably literally. Do you want her to get away with this?”

“That woman is responsible for the deaths of my family.”

“Yes, but you’ll muck up everything if you do something rash. Promise me that you’ll stay away from her,” she begged, taking a step closer to him. “Promise me.”

He reached out and traced a finger down her cheek, his eyes softening. “You mean like how I ‘mucked up’ things for you tonight?”

“That’s not an answer.”

He didn’t say anything for several moments and Éowyn was beginning to worry she had lost him when he heaved a sigh. “I won’t seek her out, but if we cross paths I can’t promise I won’t take action.”

She released a sigh of her own. “I guess that’s only fair. Thank you.”

“I just have one question,” he said as she started to back away. “How did I get to be your fiance?”

Éowyn didn’t get embarrassed often, it wasn’t in her nature, and she backed out of difficult conversations even less often, but his question made her want to run out of the dressing room and possibly all the way to Ferelden.

“You weren’t, aren’t. Shit. It was just a story I spun for them. I didn’t give the name of my _imaginary_ fiance at all, but then you walked in and, well, I had to act quickly before you said anything, like call me by my real name. As it is they’re going to run back to Johane that they saw you here tonight and tell them that you’re allegedly engaged to be married. That puts a wrinkle in everything.”

“Why would it be a wrinkle?”

“Because while those two assholes didn’t recognize me, she certainly will, and she’s not a stupid woman. She’ll connect the dots and it could put you in more danger than you already are. Not to mention the fact that she’s had tea with my mother on occasion.”

“But why spin that particular story for them?”

“Because it was convenient! Think about it. A slightly drunk and lonely woman is not seen as a threat; if anything many would consider her easy prey. I took advantage of that; it’s not the first time I’ve used that trick and won’t be the last. Maker’s balls, I shouldn’t have to explain my methods to you. It was a scam, Sebastian, it’s not real. I don’t understand why you’re hung up on it.”

“I don’t either.”

“Oh, for fuck’s--,”

His hands reached out for her waist and he pulled her to him, his mouth crushing down on hers. A soft whimper that quickly escalated to a groan escaped past her lips as he tightened his grip and pressed against her. This wasn’t like the kiss they had shared a week ago, this was raw heat and hunger. Bottles on the dressing table jostled and clinked together as he backed her up against it; several toppled over when he lifted her up and sat her on it, moving inbetween her spread legs, never breaking contact with her lips. His hands slid up from her waist and skimmed over the bare skin of her back before diving into her hair.

She lifted up a leg to his hip to pull him closer and distantly heard something rip. Ignoring it, she pulled at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin under his hands. It felt like he had lit a fuse within her and she was about to explode. His skin was hot to the touch when she finally succeeded in removing the barrier. A soft matt of hair curled grazed against her fingers and suddenly touch wasn’t enough, she needed to see as well. As her nimble fingers made for the buttons of his shirt, Sebastian nibbled down the column of her throat, nipping at the junction of where her neck and shoulder met. Her gasp echoed throughout the room as he laved the spot with his tongue and slowly, achingly moved his way back up her throat to capture her lips again.

He whispered her name against her lips, his fingers lightly tugged on her hair to bare her neck to him. He whispered it again as he slowly moved down the other side of her face to her ear, this time pausing at her ear to catch the lobe between his teeth. Éowyn shoved at his jacket, yanking it down his arms. Sebastian let go of her long enough to toss the jacket off, letting it land somewhere behind him. Éowyn went back to work on unbuttoning his shirt as his hand skimmed over her body, past her waist, and down her thigh. His hand hooked under her leg, rucking up her skirt as he helped to secure her leg around his waist.

He pulled her in closer, as close as their clothing would allow, his arousal pressing against her. His hips jerked against her and more bottles fell over, one rolling off the edge and shattering on the floor. The musky scent of Isabela’s perfume wafted up, assaulting her sense of smell and breaking the spell Sebastian had her under. She broke away from his kiss, pressing her hands against the firm planes of his chest and she could feel his heart galloping under her fingers. Her own heart felt like it was going to burst out from her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

“Whoa.”

“I think that’s an understatement.”

A giggle threatened to bubble up from her at his words but she shoved it down and tried to focus. Her brain was all fuzzy, caught in the haze of lust he had stirred within her. They were crossing too many lines, and crossing them too quickly. She needed time to think, time to clear the haze.

“I told Isabela that we were just in here to talk,” she managed, her voice huskier than normal.

“Technically we did.”

“She also told you not to rip my dress. I’m pretty sure I heard something rip.”

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

“She also said no sex.”

“Technically we didn’t.”

“Barely, another five minutes and who knows.” She cleared her throat. “Can you let me down? I need to breath.”

There was a moment’s hesitation before he stepped back. Éowyn released a heavy breath and edged off the dresser table, slowly testing her legs as she stood. She kept a light hand on the table just in case. As her skirt slid back down her legs she noticed a definite tear along a seam. She frowned at it for a moment before directing a glare squarely back at Sebastian and the man had the gall to laugh.

“I am sorry. Truly. I’ll buy you another one. Or maybe it can be mended.”

“Oh yeah, sure. Let me just explain this to Elegant on how I ripped the dress but there aren’t any bloodstains on it. I’m sure that will go completely unnoticed and she’ll have nothing to say.”

“Do many of your clothes get bloodstains on them?” The serious tone was back in his voice as he looked at her.

“Enough of them do. Dammit, I liked this dress.”

“Torn dress or not, you look beautiful.”

“Don’t try and butter me up, pal, you started this.”

He raised a hand and trailed a finger down her cheek and under her chin. He gently tilted up her head before kissing her again. This time slow and soft. Éowyn’s eyes slid closed as he kissed the corner of her mouth, edging down her jawline and back again. Her knees wobbled and she was forced to grab onto him for fear that her legs would betray her. He pulled back slightly only far enough to rest his forehead against hers.

“I suppose you’re right about that, but I’m not about to finish it here. Maker knows how thin these walls are.”

It took her a moment before the meaning of his words clicked in her brain and pulled back her head and gawked at him. “You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

His smile turned smug. “Based on the empirical evidence I’ve just gathered, I have cause to be.”

“Smooth, Vael, real smooth. You sure do know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Only you.”

Éowyn could only stare. There was a tenderness to his voice and in his face that she wasn’t used to being directed at her. They were definitely wading into uncharted waters.

Before she could respond there was a loud knock on the door. The knocker didn’t wait for a response, quickly entering the room before either of them could say a word.

“Oh good, you still have all your clothes on. Well, mostly anyway,” Isabela said. “I hope you’re done with whatever you were doing because I think it’s time for you to make a quick exit. Not only is Lusine still trying to track you down for making a scene, though how a simple slap is considered making a scene, I’ll never know. There are also a couple of goons in the club. Saw them talking with the Harimanns. Thought you would want to know.”

“Well, that’s just peachy.”

“Isn’t it though? Here, your keys. Car’s around back.” Éowyn easily caught the keys she tossed at her and suddenly realized that she had misplaced her clutch. She spied it lying on the floor, it’s contents spilled out around it. Swearing under her breath, Éowyn knelt down and shoved everything back in. When she stood back up she found Isabela giving her an appraising look. “You might also want to fix your hair. It appears to have gotten a bit disheveled during your ‘conversation’ back here.”

“You’re taking entirely way too much pleasure of this.”

“Oh, darling, it’s like you don’t know me at all, I take my pleasure where and when I can,” she chuckled. “You also might want to straighten yourselves out a bit unless you want everyone outside this room to know what you were up to. You both have sex hair.”

Éowyn turned to look in the mirror and was slightly taken aback by her appearance. If she were to be dramatic, she’d say she looked like one of the ravished maidens that Varric featured in the romance novels he claimed didn’t sell well. Rather than try to fix her hair, she pulled out the few hairpins that Sebastian had missed and let her hair swing free. It took her a moment to realize that Isabela was still speaking.

“It’s not that I don’t approve, I _totally_ approve but… why does it smell like a perfumery in here?”

“Oops. Sorry about that.”

“Andraste’s knickerweasels, it’s like dealing with a couple of teenagers. Go, before Lusine or the goons think to check for you in here.”

Éowyn didn’t need a second invitation. She quickly hiked up the skirt of her dress and unstrapped the small revolver from the holster on her leg. Isabela looked bemused while Sebastian’s emotions crossed from incredulous to resigned. “What? You didn’t think I came in here tonight unprepared, did you? Darling, it’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Isabela’s laugh trailed behind them as they snuck out into the crowded hallway. Dancers and backstage hands swerved around them. Éowyn had been here often enough that she could navigate the dim hallways with ease. She grabbed Sebastian’s hand and pulled him back toward the exit. Just as they neared the door she heard several of the dancers shriek. Looking over her shoulder she caught glimpse of two men pushing their way through and they had the aura of men who didn’t care who got in their way.

“Come on, that’s our cue.”

As stuffy as The Blooming Rose was, they didn’t receive any relief as they stepped outside and into the Kirkwall night. The heat was near oppressive and sweat started to bead on her skin almost immediately. Éowyn spotted her car sitting in the far corner of the parking lot and a familiar lanky figure leaning against it. Osric straightened as they approached.

“Trouble, Miss Hawke?”

“Could be if we don’t make a quick exit.” Éowyn looked at Sebastian. “Where’s your car?”

“I gave it to the valet. Not sure where they parked it.”

“I can get it if you like. It’s the white Jaguar Mark IV Drophead, right?”

“Well, yes, but how-?”

“Sebastian, you’re style isn’t exactly subtle. You drive a car like that up to a club, or anywhere for that matter, and people are going to notice. Even for Hightown that machine stands out. You can probably see it from the moon.”

“Which one?”

“Either, it doesn’t matter. Was _does_ matter is that we need to leave before those goons make it out. Osric here will keep an eye on your precious baby and we can come back for it later. I’d say that we take yours instead of mine but, as we just established, it’s not exactly low profile. Now get in the damn car.”

Éowyn didn’t wait for him to move and climbed into the driver’s seat, tossing her clutch into the backseat but keeping her revolverl at her side. As she started the car, Sebastian trotted around the front, getting in just as the back door to The Blooming Rose burst open. The two men from the hallway stumbled out into the parking lot, looking as if they had been pulled straight from central casting for any mob movie ever made. They scanned the parking lot, zeroing in on her location. One had his hand under his jacket while the other already had his weapon out and was taking aim.

“Shit, shit, shit. They’ll kill him if we just leave him here.” She about to roll down her window to yell at Osric to get in the car when the kid took off, sliding over the hood of the car next to them and disappeared. Even as she hesitated, the two men started approaching her car, both with their weapons drawn.

“Maker’s balls, Anders will kill me if this thing gets shot up barely a week after he got it fixed. I’ll never hear the end of it.” She shifted the car into gear and slammed her foot on the accelerator. It shot forward, tires screeching on the pavement as she sped at the two goons, forcing them to jump out of the way lest they end up under her bumper. She took the corner out of the parking lot quickly enough for her revolver to slide across the seat toward Sebastian. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reached over to grab it and then thrust it at him.

“Here, hold that. Last thing we want is for it to go off and shoot the wrong person.”

“Just… just keep your eyes on the road.”

“It’s called aggressive driving, sweetheart, not bad driving.”

The streets of Kirkwall was a twisting maze that caused even the people born here to get turned around and it only got worse when you crossed the invisible line between Hightown and Lowtown. It didn’t help that there were several streets that were inexplicably one-way. Glancing in the rearview mirror it looked clear and if they were lucky it would stay that way. It would be extraordinary bad luck if the two goons’ car was in the same parking lot. Of course they could just steal one of the cars there but it would take time for them to boost one. Just to be safe, she took a calculated gamble and turned down one of the one-way streets, praying that some unfortunate soul wasn’t following the law and driving toward them.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t think they’re following us but better to be safe than sorry.”

“You call this safe? This is insane.”

“Probably, but we’re almost through. Just hang on.”

Éowyn blasted through the next intersection, pulling a hard left. The wheels of the Studebaker slightly lifted off the pavement as she rounded the corner and slid into traffic. Car horns blared behind her as she sped down the street and further into Lowtown. She slowed down a little now that they were lost among the snarl of Lowtown traffic. A wild grin spread across her face as the adrenaline cooled in her veins. She glanced over at Sebastian and grimaced slightly when she noticed that he was white knuckling the arm rest.

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. Could have been much worse. No one was shooting at us.”

“Darling, that doesn’t really make me feel better. You’re a menace.”

“There you go, sweet talking me again. Keep it up and just see where it gets you.”

“How in the Maker’s name is this thing still running? It has to be at least fifteen years old or more.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to him Bessie, he just can’t appreciate fine Ferelden craftsmanship,” she said, patting the dashboard. “She’s sturdier than she looks. Built like a tank and can take a hit.”

“Much like her owner I see.”

Éowyn smirked, feeling happier than she had in a long time. She couldn’t really put a finger on why and it didn’t make any sense, but she was happy and for once she wasn’t going to pick at it.

Traffic thinned out a bit as they left the commercial district of Lowtown and a thought suddenly came to her.

“How did you know to find me at The Blooming Rose?”

“I didn’t at first,” he said, more relaxed now that they were moving at a more legal speed. “I stopped by your office and ran into a friend of yours, Merrill. She told me where to find you.”

“Huh.”

“She seemed really excited at the prospect of me finding you there.”

“Merrill’s an excitable sort.”

She pulled off the main drag and onto her street. One of the street lights was burnt out, causing the street to be darker than it normally was, making her grateful that she had left her porch light on. A group of young teens darted across the street, hopping one of the fences and disappearing into the night. Squinting after them, she thought she recognized one of the boys and swore. There was certainly more than just one teenage boy with red hair and ears currently too big for his head in Kirkwall, but there weren’t many. If Owen was mixing it up with the wrong crowd she was going to kick his ass.

“Problem?”

“Maybe, but there’s nothing I can do about it right now,” she said, pulling into her driveway and put the car in park. “So we’ve got a couple of options here. We can wait a couple of hours until things cool down at the club and then drive back so you can get your car, or I can call Isabela and ask her to have Osric drive your car here. I could drive you home too. We’ve got a couple of options.”

“I could call a cab too. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Éowyn frowned, unsure at why his answer disappointed her. She leaned over the seat and grabbed her clutch that had somehow miraculously stayed on the seat and not spilled everywhere during their escape. “Sure, we can do that too. Come on, I’ll show you to the phone.”

“Here, you might want this back.” Sebastian held out her revolver to her. Éowyn took it from him with a muttered thanks before opening the car door and stepping out. He followed her down the cement pathway to her door and waited patiently while she shoved her key in the slot. Once inside, she flipped on one of the lamps and dropped her clutch and revolver on the coffee table.

“The phone’s in here. Did you want a drink? I’m getting one,” she said, and then remembered that she had broken her last bottle of whiskey after the nightmare she’d had last week and had yet to replace it. “Ah, crap. I think I only have juice or milk. I might have some wine, will have to dig for it though.” She was babbling, why in the hell was she babbling?

Sebastian laid a gentle hand on her arm. “You don’t need to play hostess for me, Éowyn.”

“I guess some of my mother’s lessons rubbed off on me afterall. She drilled it into us that it was rude not to offer something when guests came over.”

“I’ll write her a note telling her that you are an exceptional hostess then.”

“Keep it up, funnyman.” Her brows crinkled when he just stared at her. “What? Do I have dirt on my nose or something.”

“No, no dirt. I just can’t believe how amazing you are.”

Éowyn blinked, unsure of how to respond. When she didn’t say anything, he continued. “You are probably one of the smartest and most tenacious people I’ve ever met. You care about people. You put your life on the line for strangers. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like you.”

“Well, uh,” was about all she could manage to say as her brain had somehow ceased to function.

“I find myself wondering why you do it and have trouble coming up with an answer.”

“I do it because someone has to, and I’m pretty damn good at it.”

“That’s just it though. You _are_ good at your job, that’s why I came to you, but that’s not the only reason I find you amazing.”

“Well, it’s true, I am pretty amazing,” she said, trying to make a joke of it. He was getting way too serious for her tastes and there was nothing to interrupt them this time.

“I wish you wouldn’t laugh it off and make a joke of it.” He took a step closer, taking her hand. “You’re amazing and beautiful and special and I would like a dance with you.”

“A dance? Is that supposed to be some kind of euphemism?”

He just laughed. “No, not at this moment. Just a dance.”

“But there’s no music,” she said as he pulled her into his arms and proceeded to lead her into a slow dance.

“It’d be nice, but we don’t need music to dance.”

“Oh, you’re such a sap.”

“A little something I picked up from my grandfather. He and my grandmother would dance with no music as well. One of my fondest memories was of them dancing in the garden. My grandmother wearing a floppy hat and muddy boots and my grandfather looking at her as if she was his whole world.”

“So it’s a kind of family trait then?”

“One that skipped a generation, I think.”

“I think I would have liked your grandfather.”

“I think so too. He would have adored you.” There was the slightest of pauses before he continued. “Just as I do.”

“Sebastian.”

“Shh. Don’t say anything. Just shut up and dance.”

And because she wasn’t sure how to respond that’s just what she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in two weeks?! I know. I'm surprised too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: gun violence in this chapter.

Silence was something that Éowyn prized. Too often the world seemed that it needed to make noise just to fill the silence, like silence was something scary, something to be afraid of. She sometimes thought that the reason why some people were afraid of silence was because they couldn’t stand in the face of their own thoughts and fears, but here, in her living room, dancing with Sebastian to no music, well, it was the most precious thing she had ever experienced. Gone was her babbling and confusion, all that remained was a sort of peace, peace that she had rarely felt or experienced in her life. For as long as she could remember life was a struggle, it had thrown one obstacle and challenge at her after another. Through it all she’d weathered it as best as she could, pushed through the pain and the blood, but she’d never really had anyone to lean on.

Instead she’d had to be the strong one, the one who had to protect her family. She had failed more often than she had succeeded, which is probably why the thought of letting someone new in, letting herself care, was positively terrifying for her.

Or it should have been. Standing there in Sebastian’s arms however, she found that she wasn’t afraid. What was going on between them bewildered her, especially considering the short amount of time they had known each other, but she was getting to the point to where she was about ready to stop fighting it. Almost.

“Does that brain of yours ever stop working?”

“What?”

“You have that look that you’re puzzling something out. Have you reached a decision?”

“Maybe, I’ll let you know,” she told him, a soft smile lifting the corners of her mouth. While she was almost ready to stop fighting whatever this was, that didn’t mean she was ready to talk about it. For that she needed more time.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, just so you know,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers trailing along the shell of her ear. Éowyn shivered at the touch and craved more of it. If she wasn’t careful they were going to finish what he started back at The Blooming Rose.

Éowyn opened her mouth to say just that, but something outside caught her eye. Two of the streetlights in front of her house were now out. While it wasn’t unusual for one to be out at any point in time, two, especially right next to each other, was unusual. The moon was the only thing providing light into those dark spaces but it was bright enough that she saw a car rolling up to the house. She stopped mid-sway and stared hard out through the front window, watching as the car jumped the curb, aiming it’s urine-yellow lights at the house.

“What? What is it?”

“I don’t know… oh, shit, get down!”

Éowyn grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him to the floor just as the windows exploded. It was like the training yard at Vael Manor only this time with more guns, guns with a lot more firepower. She heard the distinctive _rat-tat-tat_ of machine gun fire, probably a Browning automatic judging by how fast the bullets were eating up her walls.

Glass and chunks of plaster rained down on them as Éowyn pulled them around the corner of the island that separated the living room from the kitchen. She braced herself against the cabinets, cursing herself for leaving her revolver on the side table next to the sofa. Granted, she hadn’t expected someone to come to her house with machine guns, but it didn’t stop her from cursing even though she knew that a single revolver against a machine gun was like trying to put out a forest fire by pissing on it.

Fortunately, the revolver wasn’t the only weapon in the house. There was a shotgun in the hall closet, she just had to get to it without getting shot.

She kicked off her heels, knowing herself well enough that she’d be better off barefoot than wearing those ice picks. She could have managed it if she had to, but in this case she wanted every advantage she could take.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Sebastian demanded when she started crawling toward the end of the counter. He grabbed her arm to pull her back when she neared to corner. It was hard to hear him over the clatter of gunfire, but there was no mistaking the worry on his face.

“Whoever that is, they’re eventually going to have to stop to reload. There’s a shotgun in the hall closet. I’ll be damned if I get killed without fighting back.”

“No, it’s too dangerous.”

“You say that like you think you can stop me.”

“Dammit Éowyn.”

“I know, I’m impossible, but-.”

Another barrage of gunfire strafed the kitchen. There was a pop and sizzle as the table lamp was hit, the only light now from the headlights of the car sitting on her lawn. Bullets ripped into her refrigerator, leaving multiple round punctures across it’s surface. If she survived this she might just have to abandon the house. There was no way she’d ever have enough money to fix everything.

Sebastian pulled her close and partially covered her body with his, as if that would stop a bullet, but she appreciated the gesture.

As suddenly as the gunfire had started, it stopped, leaving a deafening silence. Éowyn’s ears were ringing and she swallowed heavily in an attempt to equalize the pressure. She eased out from Sebastian’s arms and quickly scuttled to the edge of the counter. Peeking around the corner she tried to see if the gunman was approaching the house or just reloading and preparing for another round. Unfortunately the lights from the car made it impossible to clearly see what was going on.

She was about to make her move for the closet and the shotgun when a voice boomed out from the night.

“Hawke, you dead yet? Or do I need to start shooting again?”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” she muttered. Glancing back at Sebastian, she said, “Guess they’re here for me, not you.”

“What? Who is that?”

“An asshole that I thought would still be in jail. This is not good. Not good at all. Stay down, I’m going for my shotgun.”

Éowyn moved slowly into the hallway, keeping her back to it as she carefully slid against the wall toward the closet. She had to bite her tongue as she stepped on a piece of debris, feeling it cut into her skin. The dark shadows of the hallway effectively cloaked her, but it also meant that she wouldn’t be able to see anyone else clearly either.

“Hawke, are you really hiding from me? Never thought I’d see the day. You’re going to pay for what you did.” Another spray of bullets shot through the now destroyed windows. Éowyn felt something burn a path across her arm as she dropped into a crouch next to the closet. With one hand she slid her fingers underneath the door and pulled gently, trying to make as little noise as possible.

“It’s awfully quiet in there, Hawke. Did I get you and your boy toy there?”

Éowyn kept silent as she entered the closet and reached up for the top shelf. Her fingers brushed against the cool metal of the shotgun. She grimaced as she had to go up on her toes and pulled the shotgun down, it’s heavy weight comforting in her hands. She felt better being armed but still had to admit that the odds were against her. Her shotgun and against Samson’s machine gun didn’t bode well. Then again, having the odds against her never meant much.

“You know I don’t die easy, Samson. Why don’t you crawl back into that hole you crawled out of, you pathetic sack of shit.”

Samson’s response was to start firing again and Éowyn could only hope that Sebastian had stayed behind the counter. If anything happened to him…

Shaking off that thought, she continued down the hallway away from the front of the house. Once she reached her bedroom she moved more quickly, shoving up one of the windows and crawling through it. The skirt of her dress caught on the sill and she felt it tear more. She felt something warm stream down her arm and in the dim light she saw the blood. Well, the dress had been nice while it lasted. Isabela really should have known better to gift her something so fancy.

Grass tickled the bottom of her bare feet as she moved through her bare backyard. When her mother had lived here, she had tried in vain to get something to grow, but nothing besides weeds and the short brown grass that was native to Kirkwall would grow. Her mistake had been trying to get Fereldan flora to grow. If she had stuck to local plants she probably would have had better luck. Well that and better dirt. Not much in Lowtown wanted to grow.

She came to a stop at the corner of the house and peeked carefully into the dim light. Samson was nowhere in sight and she could only pray that he hadn’t gone into the house. Sebastian was essentially defenseless in there.

Something rustled behind her and she whipped around, bringing the shotgun up, her finger on the trigger. Owen made a tiny squeak and flinched.

“Maker’s balls, kid. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she snarled in a low voice.

“I came to help. I want to help.”

“You can help by getting your ass out of here. I’m not about to have your dead body on my conscience. Your mother will kick your ass and then she’ll kick my ass if she finds out about this.”

“You’re bleeding.”

“I know that, genius. Now get your ass out of here. This is no place for a kid. You want to help, go call the guard.”

“Betty already did. They should be here soon.”

“Good to hear. Now, get out of here.”

“But Hawke-,”

“Don’t but Hawke me, get out of here.”

Owen faded back into the bushes and ran, and she could only hope that he ran fast and far away from here. She wasn’t lying when she said the last thing she wanted was his dead body on her conscience. There were already enough there to weigh it down.

Samson was still yelling from the front of the house, his voice getting hoarse as the yelling continued, growing more obscene with each breath. If Owen was true to his word, the guard would be here soon, and it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that one of her neighbors had called them as well.

More gunfire sounded off as she moved quietly down the side of the house. Her eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness to see more detail than vague shapes, and from this angle the car’s headlights weren’t as blinding. Samson stood in front of the car, silhouetted by the lights behind him. _Idiot_ , she muttered to herself. He’d been smart enough to attempt to blind them by shining his headlights into the house, but dumb enough to stand in front of the lights. The damned fool couldn’t have made himself a better target. If he’d been smart he would have used the car as cover, hide behind the car door just in case she’d shot back.

Bracing against the corner of the house, she took aim and fired at one of the headlights and quickly took cover behind the wall. Samson spun toward her, shooting wildly in her general direction. Seeing as he was shooting at her with a machine gun it was hard to count bullets but surely he had to be running low. He hadn’t exactly been judicious with his ammo, choosing raw force rather than tactics.

“Trying to sneak around me are you? Fucking bitch.”

Before Éowyn could come up with a reply, more shots rang out, but they weren’t from Samson. In fact, it sounded suspiciously like it came from a revolver. The other headlight sparked out and she heard Samson howl in pain. Peaking around the corner she saw Samson clutching his shoulder, blood quickly drenching his shirt even as he scrambled back to his car. Two more shots rang out, both hitting the car’s engine. From her place at the wall, she heard the engine pop and hiss, and took a savage pleasure in the fact that for once it wasn’t her car that was getting shot up.

She leaned around the corner again and watched as Samson brought up the machine gun and let loose at the house until the gun was empty and the only noise was the clicking of empty chambers. Éowyn turned the corner as he fumbled in his jacket pocket for what she could only assume was another cartridge of ammunition. Before he could so much as pull his hand out, she leveled the shotgun at him and fired two shots. The first caught him in the shoulder, the second across his back as he jerked around from the force of the hits and fell to his knees. His gun, which she now saw that it was indeed a Browning automatic, clattered to the ground in front of him. Éowyn kicked it out of the way as she racked another shell into the chamber of the shotgun and leveled it at his face.

“How do you like me now, asshole?”

Samson spat blood-tinged spit at her, his face distorted with anger.

“That’s the second time you’ve spit at me, once was enough.”

“You better kill me, you bitch, cause I’ll just come back.”

“You’re probably right, I probably should kill you.” Rather than give into the urge to do just that, she swung up the butt of the shotgun and rammed it into his face. Samson crumbled before her, unconscious before he hit the ground. In the distance she could hear the wail of sirens and could safely assume that they were for her. Oh, Aveline was going to murder her.

“Éowyn.”

She spun around, seeing Sebastian standing in what was left of her doorway, leaning against the jam. Her revolver hung limply from his hand and she stared at him dumbfounded for a moment before she realized that blood was dripping heavily down his arm, collecting into a small pool beneath him. A small cry burst past her lips as she dropped the shotgun and raced up the yard, ignoring the pain in her foot in her panic. She reached him just in time to catch him as he slumped further against the doorjamb and prevented him from pitching forward. He grunted in pain as she tried to ease him to the floor but he was heavier that he looked and not in complete control of his body so they fell in a heap instead.

“You asshole, what did you do?” she demanded. Blood was splattered against his skin, skin gone white with shock. Blood completely soaked his right side, the shirt so drenched that her fingers had trouble gripping the fabric to tear the sleeve open. A sob escaped past her lips when she uncovered the bloody hole piercing his upper arm. That brief second of grief was all she allowed herself before she shut down into survival mode.

“You stupid bastard, why didn’t you stay down?” she asked without expecting an answer as she tore off a huge section of the skirt of her dress and pressed it to the wound.

“You didn’t really think I was going to just sit there, did you?” he asked weakly, grimacing as she shifted him up into her lap in an attempt to elevate his arm more.

“Of course I did, you moron. Of the two of us, who has fought in a war and gets into fights on a semi-regular basis? Maker’s balls, you were supposed to stay down you stupid bastard.” Her makeshift pressure dressing was quickly getting soaked and she didn’t dare let up the pressure even to tear more of her dress off. She shifted her hand down and pressed down on his brachial artery and began to pray harder than she had in a long time.

“You say the sweetest things.”

The sirens were getting closer but were too far away to give her any comfort. She bent over Sebastian’s form, to both put more weight on the wound and to be closer to him. He had to be okay, she would not accept any other option. Fate, that cruel bitch, had already taken enough from her, she would let her take him as well.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” she whispered, half expecting to hear some corny response from him, but he was silent. Panic gripped her as she lifted her head to find him unconscious. She wanted to shake him awake but that would have required her to let up the pressure on his wound.

“Andraste have mercy. Hawke, what happened?”

Éowyn jerked upright to see Anders standing above her, sweat soaking through his shirt and chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. She been so focused on keeping the pressure on Sebastian’s wound that she hadn’t heard him approach. She stared up at him blankly for the space of a couple of seconds, unable to form any words, and then they spilled out.

“That asshole Samson, that’s what happened. Aveline should have lost the key to his cell. Why are you here?”

“Owen found me. Kid was in a panic, kept stuttering. Said you needed help.” With that he knelt down and took a closer look. “That’s soaked through, keep the pressure on, I’ll go find some towels.”

It felt like an eternity before Anders returned with the towels. He knelt back down and wrapped a thick towel around Sebastian’s arm. Only when she felt Anders put pressure on did she slip her hands out.

“He’s lost a lot of blood.”

“He’ll be okay.”

“Hawke-.”

“No, dammit, he’s going to be okay. You’re a doctor, you’ve seen worse than this, we both have.”

“Yes, we have, but if he doesn’t get to a hospital soon his odds drop. I don’t think the bone is broken, but infection is a very real possibility, you know that.”

“Of course I know that,” she snapped. “Just... just help him. Please.”

At her words, Anders gave her a quiet look before nodding. He elevated Sebastian’s arm more so that it was above his heart, bracing it against his legs. Blood was everywhere. It seemed to paint her whole world. She hadn’t seen this much blood in a long time.

Éowyn brushed Sebastian’s hair off his forehead before leaning down and pressing a kiss to his skin. His skin was cool and slightly moist, both indicators of him being in shock. Her world narrowed down to just him, the sounds and lights around her muffled, so it took her a moment to realize that people were speaking around her. There were hands gently pulling her away. People in white jackets surrounded them, carefully moving Sebastian onto a stretcher. She could only sit there, numb, watching as they took over trying to save his life.

It wasn’t until they started to carry him to the waiting ambulance that she shifted into gear again.

“Wait,” she said, panic threading through her voice. She tried to stand up, but pain lanced up from her foot, causing her to nearly fall over. “Where are you taking him?”

“You need to sit down, miss. You’re hurt too.” Hands gently held her by the shoulder, steadying her.

Éowyn turned toward the stranger, his white uniform identifying him as a medic. Anger spiked within her as he tried to make her sit back down. She lashed out, pushing him away.

“No, dammit. Where are they taking him?”

“If you don’t calm down, I’ll have to sedate you.”

“Don’t you dare treat me like some hysterical ninny. Tell me where they’re taking him.”

“They’re taking him to Our Lady of Mercy. He’ll be in good hands there, I promise, now sit down so the nice medics here can take a look at you.” When she didn’t move, Anders continued, “I’ll hold you down while they sedate you if you don’t sit down. Don’t think I won’t.”

“You’re welcome to try, asshole.”

“I’ll help him, Hawke, now sit your ass down.”

Éowyn looked behind Anders’ shoulder to see Aveline approaching, her face grim. Her husband, and Lieutenant, Donnic stood at her side, his face just as grim. Now that she wasn’t solely focused on Sebastian, Éowyn could see the dozens of guards moving about. Some were interviewing her neighbors, most of whom were in their bathrobes, wearing worried expressions. She recognized about half of them by face, but in her semi-dazed state she couldn’t put a name to any of them.

Red and blue and white lights flashed around her, painting the world in a surreal light. She barely felt Anders put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to sit down. The medic lifted up her foot and she distantly heard something about stitches. Someone placed a blanket around her shoulders and it was only then that she realized how cold she was. She could hear Anders and Aveline talking, bickering most likely, but the words were distant and muffled. The world around her was one hazy cloud whirling and spinning about, making it difficult to focus. Someone flashed a light in her eyes, and she tried to bat it away but found that she had no strength left in her arms.

“She’s going to have to go to Mercy too. The wound on her foot’s not that bad, but it will still need stitches. Her arm too probably.”

“We need to question her.”

“The questions can wait, Lieutenant Hendyr. Treatment first, then questions. We got the culprit and judging by the amount of bullet casings and such, I think it’s pretty clear what happened.”

“It’s my fault.”

At her words, they stopped talking. Aveline crouched down, looking her straight in the eye.

“This is not your fault, Hawke.”

Éowyn looked up at her with hollow eyes. “But it is, can’t you see that? Everyone around me gets hurt or dead. I’m a death magnet.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you when you’re in shock.” Aveline turned to the medic. “Get her to Mercy and get her treated. She gives you any trouble, sedate her.”

“I’ll go with her. She’ll fight any attempt to sedate her.”

Her mind somewhat clearer now, she glared at the two of them. “You know that I can hear you, right?”

“Then you should listen instead of being a stubborn ass. Go with the nice medic, get patched up and I’m sure they’ll let you see him if you’re a good girl.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you can be overbearing and bossy?”

“Not to my face, now go.”

Éowyn stood up with the help of Anders and the medic. Between the two of them they helped her hobble over to the ambulance. She balked when they reached the back and they tried to get her in.

“Don’t make me sedate you, Hawke.”

“Can’t you just drive me to the hospital in your car? Better yet, don’t you have a suture kit somewhere and you can stitch me up? I can’t afford the hospital.”

“We’ll worry about the bill later. Now get in the damn ambulance.” Without waiting for her to reply, Anders lifted her up and put her on the stretcher in himself and pushed it in. He nodded to the medic before climbing in after her and locked the stretcher down. The ambulance rocked a bit as the medic drove them off the lawn and into the street.

Éowyn watched Anders as he reached into one of the bins and pulled out a couple of iodine swabs. She gritted her teeth as he cleaned the wound on her arm before applying a clean gauze pad. He was silent as he worked, using another piece of gauze to wrap around her arm to hold the pad in place.

Éowyn turned her head away and watched the city fly by as the ambulance moved through the streets. Rain had begun to fall on the city. She watched as the water moved in jerky paths across the window. She remembered that when she was a child she would stare out the windows of their house, watching the rain fall on the fields. Mist would curl in the hollows of the fields, giving the land a mystical feel. Here the rain was harsh, washing away the muck and the grime only to reveal more muck and grime. Kirkwall was a city that took. It excelled at taking.

“He’ll be okay, you know. He won’t have full use of his arm for a while, but he’ll be okay.”

Éowyn turned her head back toward Anders. His narrow face was solemn and yet earnest at the same time. There was a streak of grease curving over his eyebrow, half hidden by the hair falling over his forehead.

“How can you know that? You said it yourself, he lost a lot of blood. We’re both covered in it.”

“The bullet went through, so it’s not sitting in there. You put pressure on it quickly to help stem the bleeding. Infection’s the real worry. That’ll kill you just as much as a bullet.”

“I know, that’s what worries me.”

“Hey, this isn’t like the gas they used in Ferelden. Mercy is a good hospital. They’ll take excellent care of him.”

Éowyn worried her bottom lip between her teeth. How could this have happened? He was hurt and it was her fault. He had fallen into her world, and like so many others who did the same, got caught up in it and got hurt. Her world was dirty, messy, and bloody and he didn’t belong in it. For a moment there, she had forgotten that and she vowed that she wouldn’t again. She would bring down Johane Harimann and then, even though the thought of it tore at her heart, she would walk out of his life.

It was the only way she knew to keep him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.


	14. Chapter 14

Three hours later Éowyn was lying on a gurney in a curtained off corner of the emergency department while some doctor sewed up the gash in her foot. She gripped the sheet while the needle pierced her flesh, sewing the edges back together. The antiseptic they used hurt more than the actual stitching; it was more a matter of her not wanting to be there that was the problem. No one would tell her what Sebastian’s status was, and when she threatened violence, the nurse had just stared at her flatly and threatened right back to sedate her into submission. Anders, who hadn’t left her side since they arrived, had tried to cover a laugh at the exchange but failed miserably.

“There. That should about do it. You’ll need to stay off it for a couple of days or the stitches will--.” The doctor stopped talking when Anders burst out in laughter. At Éowyn’s glare he only laughed harder. “What? I fail to see what is so funny about this”

“Nothing, Doc. It’s just that you don’t know her very well. The phrase ‘taking it easy’ isn’t in her vocabulary.”

The doctor huffed primly. “Well, if you don’t want those stitches to burst or for infection to set in, you’ll follow my orders. You’ll want to keep your weight off it, Nurse Bennett here will get you a cane.” Anders snorted loudly from his spot where he leaned against the wall, earning him a glare from both Éowyn and the doctor. He scribbled something onto her chart before handing it over to the nurse before leaving through the curtains.

Éowyn waited patiently while the nurse gathered up used bandages and suture materials, who stated that she’d be back shortly before leaving her and Anders alone.

“If you don’t stop laughing, I will hit you over the head with that cane as soon as I get it.” 

“Considering that you’d have to catch me first, I’d like to see you try, gimpy.”

“I might not be able to run very fast at the moment but I can still throw and I have excellent aim.” When he just kept chuckling, she growled. “Instead of standing there laughing like an idiot, why don’t you make yourself useful and find out where they took him.”

“Hawke, you know they’re not going to tell me anything.”

“Just tell them you’re a doctor. It’s not exactly a lie.”

“Right. A doctor who happens to be wearing grease-stained mechanic’s overalls. You’re lucky that they let me in with you, Hawke.”

“Can’t you do something? Be useful? Don’t make me get out of this bed. I’ll start going from room to room if I have to.”

“Considering that you look like the survivor of a horror film, I don’t think wandering the hospital is advisable.”

Éowyn looked down at herself. Her dress was in tatters and she was caked in blood except for the places they had cleaned in order to stitch her up. It was no wonder that upon their arrival one of the nurses, fresh out of school by the look of her, had blanched when they took her out of the ambulance. Give her a few more weeks in the emergency ward and that shine should wear off quickly.

“Then get me some clothes at least. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.”

“I’ll see what I can get. Might just be better to call Merrill or someone and they can bring you clothes from home.”

“Oh, blessed Andraste no. The last thing I need is Merrill in here bawling all over me, and you know she’ll do just that,” she paused, taking a deep breath. “Just, please, just see what you can find out. I… I need to know.”

Anders straightened away from the wall, his face sober. “Fine. I’ll see what I do. No promises though.” He paused as he reached the curtain, glancing at her from over his shoulder. “I hope he deserves you, Hawke.”

Éowyn stared after him, not knowing how to respond and then he was gone before she could think of one. She was so uncertain of everything now. Samson’s attack had put everything in a tailspin. She slumped back down onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling and wished for something alcoholic. Anything alcoholic.

No. First she needed to make sure that Sebastian was okay and then she needed to get stinking drunk. She should probably a shower at some point too. And then she remembered that her house was half destroyed and she was basically homeless unless she counted her office; the ratty sofa that sat slightly out of view to be her bed for the foreseeable future. Her back hurt just at the thought of sleeping on it for any length of time. Carver had insisted that it was the most comfortable thing ever; she had called him an idiot but hadn’t gotten rid of it after he left despite it being an eyesore and having stains of questionable origin. 

Oh, she was so fucked on so many levels that she didn’t even know where to start.

Ten minutes, then fifteen passed by without anyone making an appearance. How long did it take to find a cane? She was willing to give Anders a little bit more leeway on getting Sebastian’s status, but the more time that passed, the more restless she got from not knowing what was going on.

“Fuck it,” she said, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She hissed slightly when her bare feet touched the cold linoleum and tried not to think about what germs might be lingering there. Limping alongside the bed, she snatched the threadbare blanket off it and wrapped it around her in an attempt to hide her state of dress, or undress, depending on who you asked. She had just about made it to the curtain when it was ripped open, revealing a scowling Aveline and a curly-haired blonde man that looked vaguely familiar.

“What in Andraste’s name do you think you are doing? Get back in bed before I put you there.”

“It’s just a scratch, Aveline. I’m not going to die from it.”

“You are the worst at taking orders.”

“Aren’t you glad then that I didn’t sign up for the guard?”

Aveline’s glower only intensified. Éowyn rolled her eyes and limped back to the bed, sitting on the edge. “See? I’m sitting,” she said. “Honestly, I thought the inquisition would wait until tomorrow. It’s been a long night.”

Aveline’s eyes softened as she approached her. “I know it has, but there are just a few details that,” here she paused, the glower returning. “Captain Rutherford here felt that they needed to be answered tonight.”

“Why would the Chantry’s thugs be possibly interested in a gunfight in Lowtown? Not exactly your kind of thing. I mean, there  _ was _ sinning involved I suppose, attempted murder is on the list I hear, but isn’t this kind of thing, I don’t know, out of your purview? Jurisdiction? Whatever?” Éowyn knew she was being nastier that was really warranted but at that particular moment she didn’t care.

Rutherford, to his credit, didn’t flinch at her scathing tone. He managed to maintain the aloofness she associated with the Chantry’s Templar order, as well as the stick that most of them had rammed up the asses, a strange combination to be sure. Though there was just the slightest tightening of his jaw before he spoke that made her want to smirk.

“The man who attacked you tonight used to be of our order. He-,”

“I am well aware of who and what Raleigh Samson is and used to be, pal. He’s a drunk, a womanizer, and all around asshole among other things. Blames others for the problems he created, blames me in particular for some of those. He-.” She stopped cold as a thought ran through her brain. “Thelma. His wife, ex-wife. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, Hawke. She’s with her sister Louise. It was the first thing we checked on once the scene was secure,” Aveline told her. “It would seem that you were the sole focus of his rage.”

“Well, aren’t I the lucky one.” Inwardly, she let go a sigh of relief. Thelma had come to her, half desperate, half scared of what her husband was up to. She had wanted out, but with the way that the law was written in Kirkwall, no one would grant her a divorce without cause, and apparently him being a drunk wasn’t enough. Proof of adultery and drug running, however, was.

Rutherford cleared his throat before speaking again. “The Knight-Commander felt it prudent that since two members of the Chantry-.”

“ _ Former _ members,” Éowyn interrupted again. “Again, I’m forced to wonder why the Chantry is taking an interest in this. Trying to buff out some of the tarnish perhaps? Trying to show that the Chantry cares about people below a certain income level? Your illustrious Knight-Commander hasn’t exactly been subtle about her feelings on Ferelden refugees, or anyone else who isn’t a Marcher for that matter. The not-so-beloved Sister Patrice spouting her nonsense hasn’t exactly endeared herself to the people of Lowtown. Hells, even the Grand Cleric herself has been wishy-washy about dealing with the factions plaguing the city. So tell me, Captain Rutherford, why exactly should I care to answer any questions you have about what happened tonight?”

Her voice had gotten progressively louder and angrier the longer she talked. Her temper was about to snap and she was disinclined to care who was in the blast zone.

“Miss Hawke, I only want to-.”

“Did it sound like I was finished? My house is destroyed because of a man you couldn’t keep control of. A man I care very much about is probably dead for all I know because no one will tell me what happened to him. I’ll believe that the Chantry in this city really cares about it’s people,  _ all _ it’s people, when it does more than token charity.”

The curtains whisked open before she could continue, revealing the nurse who had left to get her a cane. Heavy disapproval spread across Nurse Bennett’s face as she gave them all a glare that could melt rock. She let go of the wheelchair she had been pushing and stared them all down.

“What in Andraste’s name is going on in here? Why are you badgering my patient?”

“Ma’am, she’s a witness in a-.”

“Young man, I don’t care if she’s a witness to the second coming of the Maker, I’ll not have you in here disrupting her or any of the other patients. She was already distraught enough before you came in here.” The nurse turned her disapproving eye on Aveline. “I’m surprised at you Guard-Captain Vallen. I would have thought that you knew better.”

“My apologies, Nurse Bennett,” was Aveline’s contrite response. Éowyn couldn’t think of a time in where her friend had been so cowed by another person. She had to bite her tongue hard to keep from laughing as Rutherford tried to explain himself again, and all the nurse had to do was raise an eyebrow to get him to stop talking. “You want to talk to her, you can wait until she’s properly discharged and not a moment sooner. Now, I will kindly ask you to leave so I can attend to my patient.”

“We’ll be in the waiting room,” Aveline said as she grabbed Rutherford by the arm and escorted him away. Éowyn peaked around Nurse Bennett, ignoring the twinge in her arm and watched them leave. She had to bite down on the childish urge to stick her tongue out at them as they walked away. Nurse Bennett moved to block her view, the woman’s hands fisted on her hips.

“And you, don’t think you’re getting off easy here either. I won’t tolerate such caterwauling in my ward. You’ve been trouble since you got here.”

“I wasn’t caterwauling. I don’t caterwaul.”

“The pain in my ears tells me different, young lady.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just really don’t like hospitals.”

“You don’t say? I would have never guessed.” Nurse Bennett turned, picking up a bundle from the wheelchair. “Here, I brought you some clean clothes for you to change into. You’ll need to wash up first though. No sense in getting dressed when you still have blood all over you.”

Éowyn took them hesitantly, unsure of the woman’s motives. “If I’m such a pain in the ass, why are you giving me these?”

“Two reasons. One, that dress, or what’s left of it, is a biohazard on several levels, and needs to go in the nearest trash bin. Two, I can’t have you traipsing through the hospital in naught but your knickers.”

“And why would I be traipsing through the hospital?”

“Because you’re not the only pain in the ass patient I have who’s demanding to make sure someone they care about is okay, and frankly you’re both giving me a headache. Now, get in the chair and I’ll take you to the washroom.”

“Sebastian. He’s okay?”

“The sooner you get cleaned up, the sooner you’ll find out. Now, don’t make me put you in this chair. I’ll get one of the orderlies to dump you in a shower if you don’t start moving. Don’t test me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Éowyn limped over to the chair with Nurse Bennett helping her balance. She draped the blanket back over her once Éowyn was seated, and then whisked her through the hallways at a brisk pace. For a Friday night the emergency ward was relatively quiet. There had been times when she been in an emergency ward where you would think that it was the end of days, places where the stench of death in the air was so thick that you choked on it. The last time they had brought Bethany to the hospital had been on a day like that. Her sister had struggled to breath, her lungs so damaged by the gas attacks and subsequent infections that in the end her body had just given up no matter how strong her spirit.

And now Sebastian lay in some bed here. Allegedly awake according to Nurse Bennett, but that didn’t mean he was okay. It could mean anything.

Makers balls, she hated hospitals.

The wheelchair came to a sudden stop, jerking her out of the downward spiral her thoughts were taking. Nurse Bennett leaned over and locked the wheels in place. She stepped around and pushed open the door to a small washroom, flicking the light on as she did. A single bulb flickered to life above them, it’s light staining the yellowed tiles.

“Well? Are you waiting for an invitation? There’s soap and towels in there. Don’t you dare bust any of those stitches.”

“You’re going to just let me walk in there? By myself?”

“I have better things to do with my time than wash behind your ears. You’re a big girl, I think I can trust you with a bar of soap. You have five minutes.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Five minutes and counting.”

Éowyn swore under her breath as she pushed herself up and out of the chair. Just her luck that she got the hardest of the hardasses in the emergency ward. Not that she was going to backtalk. Much. Especially when, for whatever reason, said hardass was helping her.

“Keep the engine running then, will you? I won’t be long.”

Nurse Bennett snorted. As Éowyn closed the door behind her, she saw the woman take out a pocket watch. Was she really going to time her? Yes, it appeared that she was.

Once the door was shut, Éowyn leaned against the sink, the basin permanently stained with Maker knew what, and stared at her reflection. Blood was splattered across her face and down her chest. A fresh bandage covered the bullet graze on her arm, the doctor having stitched that up as well as her foot. There was also blood streaked through her hair, full strands clumped together. She resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do about it at the moment and began to strip down her her underwear. Her skin pebbled as the remains of her dress fell to the floor in an heap. Kicking it away, she turned the tap on and waited until the water was as hot as she could stand it. Steam rose and fogged up the mirror as she rubbed the soap into a nearly threadbare washcloth and gingerly cleaned the blood and sweat off her. 

It was closer to ten minutes by the time she had cleaned up and put on the pyjamas that Nurse Bennett had given her. Conceding that her hair was a lost cause until she was able to take a shower, she simply twisted it behind her neck and hoped for the best. When she opened the door, Nurse Bennett stood on the other side with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown hanging on her face.

“You have an interesting concept of time, young lady.”

“Yeah, well, there was a lot of blood.”

Nurse Bennett merely harrumphed and gestured to the wheelchair. Éowyn limped back to it and sank gratefully back into it. While she hadn’t taken much physical damage, the emotional toll of the day was wearing on her. She felt like she had been stretched out, thin as tissue paper and ready to break at the slightest breeze. She had already come close to that several times since entering the emergency ward and she didn’t know how much longer she could hold herself together. 

Just a little longer, she told herself. Just a little longer.

People seemed to steer clear of them as Nurse Bennett wheeled her through the hallways in silence. If Éowyn were to take a wild guess, and it really wasn’t that much of a wild one based on her short acquaintance with the woman, it was Nurse Bennett who ruled the roost of the emergency ward and it would be a foolish person who crossed her. Orderlies would nod their heads respectfully as some of the more nervous and inexperienced staff scurried out of the way lest they got caught in Nurse Bennett’s gaze and suffered whatever wrath they imagined she would bring down upon them.

Normally she would have made some snarky comment, but right now all she wanted to do was make sure that Sebastian was okay.

They finally stopped in front of a closed door. Éowyn stared at it with no small amount of trepidation. There had been so much blood when he had been shot, so much that she had been terrified that he might die. The lump that had been sitting in her stomach since that moment suddenly grew harder and colder, and she didn’t know if she had the strength to open the door, much less get out of the wheelchair.

“Now, I’m not going to get any hysterics from you, am I?”

Éowyn looked up from her twisted fingers and stared at Nurse Bennett. Hysterics? Not likely.

“I promise not to weep and wail, if that’s what you’re asking me.  _ Why _ are you asking me that?”

“Your fiance lost a lot of blood. He’ll be fine though he may not look like it. I need to know that I’m not going to have to call an orderly to pick you up off the floor if you faint.”

“I fought in Ferelden, I’ve seen worse,” she paused, her brain finally picking up on exactly what the woman had said. “Wait. Fiance? I didn’t say he was my fiance.”

“You didn’t. He did. And that’s the only reason I’m letting you back here.”

Éowyn snapped her mouth shut before she said anything more that would get her kicked out. She was willing to let the lie last a little longer if it meant that she got to see for herself that he was okay.

Without waiting for her to respond, Nurse Bennett opened the door and wheeled her in. Éowyn held her breath as they approached Sebastian’s bed. His eyes were closed, his skin a pale version of it’s normally darkened tone. His left arm was swathed in white bandages. A glass bottle hung from an IV pole, it’s contents dripping into the tube that fed into his other arm. That cold hard lump that sat in her stomach twisted viciously as the wheelchair came to a stop. He was in that bed because of her. She may not have pulled the trigger, but she had definitely pulled him into that bullet’s path by allowing him to get close. 

“Maker’s breath.”

“The surgeon stitched him up. Bullet went clean through and didn’t fragment, so your man’s lucky in that respect. Sometimes it’s better to just leave the shrapnel in than dig around in there to get it out.”

Éowyn unconsciously rubbed her left shoulder at Nurse Bennett’s words. It had happened not too long before they called for the evacuation of Ostagar and the field surgeon hadn’t dared to risk doing just what Nurse Bennett described. The fragments had been too small and embedded too deeply to really do anything about them, and once the wounds had closed up she barely noticed them unless a particularly bad storm came through.

“He’ll be pretty weak for a day or so while his body heals,” Nurse Bennett said as she checked the IV bottle, flicking the drip chamber with her finger. “We had to give him blood during the surgery, he lost quite a bit as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“How long,” Éowyn paused as she swallowed heavily. “How long will he take to heal?”

“That mostly depends on him, but he’s young and healthy and he was able to get treated quickly, so shouldn’t take too long. He got a good dose of antibiotics during surgery to help stave off infection but you’ll still need to keep an eye on it. He’ll have to stay here for at least a day or two before the doctor is satisfied and he’ll have to come back to have the stitches removed.” Nurse Bennett slanted her a glance. “So will you, for that matter. Don’t even think about taking them out yourself.”

Éowyn started to open her mouth to deny it, but then closed it and merely shrugged. It wasn’t like Nurse Bennett was wrong afterall.

“Well, then. Everything seems in order here. I’ll leave you two alone.”

The room was silent after she left. This close to him she could hear him breath, see the slight rise and fall of his chest, and that cold, hard lump in her stomach slowly unclenched. She wheeled her chair closer and reached out her hand to touch his. His skin was warm to the touch and the clammyness was gone. He was okay. He was going to be okay.

“I’m so sorry for all this,” she whispered. “This is all my fault.”

Bending her head down, she pressed her lips to his hand, and then just rested her head against it. Exhaustion rushed through her body. She had been running on adrenaline, elevated hormones, and nerves ever since he had stepped foot into The Blooming Rose, and now that the danger had passed and she had been able to confirm that Sebastian was going to be okay, she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. Giving in, she turned her head so that her cheek lay on their hands and closed her eyes. She meant for it only to be for a moment, but sleep rose up and claimed her before she could even raise an objection. 

~~~~

It was sometime later when she was able to regain consciousness, albeit slowly. Someone was running their fingers slowly through her hair, gently, as if they didn’t want to wake her. Éowyn opened her eyes and immediately closed them in response to the bright light of the room and dug her face into the mattress. A deep chuckle filled her ears, causing her to lift her head enough to glare at him. She wanted to remain disgruntled, but seeing him awake pretty much washed that away.

“Not a morning person, I see.” His voice was soft, the Starkhaven burr trickling through and causing a shiver to run down her spine. Damn the man. How could his mere voice cause such a reaction in her?

“Not so much, no,” she said, sitting up. The muscles in her lower back protested, evidence that she had been lying in one position for far too long. She took a critical look at him. His color seemed better now that he was awake, and either they had given him some amazing drugs or he had a high tolerance for pain. She was betting it was the latter as his eyes didn’t have that glazed over look that people on serious pain medication tended to have.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Éowyn found herself stuck. She didn’t know where to go from here. Her brain was telling her that now that she knew he was okay that it was okay to leave, but everything else in her made her want to stay.

“They told me that you should be out of here in a day or so.”

“They said as much the same to me. I’m sure that once Uncle Gideon hears about this he’ll insist on one of Starkhaven’s doctors examining me.”

“Can’t say as I blame him. Though the docs here do get a lot of trauma experience.”

“I have no complaints about the care I’ve received here. They’ve been most attentive.”

“I’m sure they were. Probably didn’t hurt that one of Meredith’s thugs came around to investigate what happened,” she told him, annoyance threading through her voice. 

“What do you mean? Nothing that happened tonight had anything to do with The Chantry.”

“That’s what I said! But Captain Stick-up-his-ass had a different opinion. Fortunately I had Nurse Bennett on my side and I have a feeling that very few people cross that woman.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. It took some doing to convince her to let you up here.”

Éowyn raised an eyebrow at that. “Yes, she mentioned that my  _ fiance _ was demanding to see me. You know, if a lie gets repeated often enough people are going to start believing that it’s true.”

Sebastian shrugged. “It was the most convincing argument I could come up with. Besides, you said it first.”

“I said it… Look pal, when I did it, my name, my real name wasn’t attached. Now it is. You don’t think that’s not going to get around?”

“Is that a problem?”

Éowyn just gaped at him, struck speechless. She really didn’t know how to respond to the question, so for the moment she refused to say anything. Instead, she sat back in the wheelchair and crossed her arms over her chest, wincing when she inadvertently brushed against the wound on her arm. She had determined earlier that she needed to separate him from her world, that it was the only way she could make sure he would be safe, but he wasn’t making it easy with statements like that.

“Éowyn?”

“I-.”

The door to the room suddenly slammed open, stopping her from speaking. Isabela dashed in, Anders close on her heels, before shutting the door, leaning against it as if they were being chased by a pack of wild dogs or something. Relieved as she was for the distraction, Éowyn still couldn’t help the slight thread of annoyance that ran through her. 

“At the risk of sounding like your mother, don’t you know how to knock?”

“Darling, we just crossed a hellish landscape and escaped the dragon, can you blame us for bursting in?”

“I take it you met Nurse Bennett then. She’s not so bad, once you get under that crusty exterior.”

“Says you. That woman would eat you alive given half the chance,” Isabela said as she pushed away from the door and walked up to the foot of Sebastian’s bed. “Well? What do you two have to say for yourselves?”

“I beg your pardon?”

The incredulousness in Sebastian’s tone made Éowyn laugh out loud. He sounded so… so like a noble. 

“First you nearly wreck my dressing room in a hormone fueled snogging session. Then you have two gun waving goons chasing you out of the club; Osric’s fine by the way, kid knows how to move when he’s motivated. And now you’ve barely escaped getting gunned down by a maniac. You are not healthy for my nerves, Hawke.”

“Oh please, your nerves are fine. And one broken bottle hardly constitutes wrecking your dressing room. I’m more than certain you and Fenris have caused much more damage in there.”

“And you’re sidestepping the issue, but I’ll let it pass because we have more pressing issues at the moment.”

“You’re right. If Nurse Bennett finds you in here, she’ll toss both of you out on your ass.  _ I _ was barely able to get in here.” She shot a glare at Sebastian, warning him not to say a word. She was not up to explaining the whole confusing mess between them when even she didn’t know how to explain it to herself; the entire thing made even more complicated considering that once Johane Harriman was behind bars, she had every intention of closing the door on their relationship. If she had to kick his ass all the way back to Starkhaven to get him out, she would.

“Oh, it’s not Nurse Bennett I’m worried about. It’s your mother.”

“What about my mother?”

“She’s on her way.”

“She’s what?!” Éowyn made to stand up from the chair but was forced to sit back down when a sharp pain lanced up her leg from her foot. She really had to remember that she wasn’t at one hundred percent. “Which one of you assholes called her?”

Anders, who hadn’t spoken a word since he and Isabela had entered, preferring instead to glare not so subtly at Sebastian, turned his attention back to her, his cheeks flushed with what she could safely assume was guilt. 

“Why?”

“She was going to hear about it regardless, Hawke, I figured it was better to hear it from someone familiar rather than some asshole news-jockey.”

“You have a point there, but I would think that you would tell her that I’m fine. There’s no reason for her to come down here.”

“Other than to see for herself that her daughter is okay?” Sebastian said quietly. Éowyn glared at him.

“You be quiet, you don’t get a vote in this.” She put her head in her hands, attempting to massage away the headache that was threatening. Could this day get any worse?

Through the closed door, she heard shouting from the hallway. There were several voices shouting back and forth but one rang through crystal clear and she seriously considered escaping out through the window.

“Where is my daughter? I demand that you take me to her this instant.”

Éowyn stared darkly at Anders. “I will murder you in the most painful way possible for this, Anders. I didn’t need this on top of everything else.”

“I didn’t really think that she’d come down here.”

“Well you thought wrong.” Éowyn braced herself, this was not going to be fun. 


	15. Chapter 15

The shouting in the hallway became louder and more distinct the closer their owners came. By now Éowyn was able to pick out not only her mother’s voice but also that of Nurse Bennett and Aveline. They all waited in Sebastian’s hospital room, acting as if a bomb was about to go off. When the door finally opened, Éowyn was too shocked by her mother’s appearance to say anything. Leandra Amell never stepped foot out of the house in Hightown with a hair out of place, her shoes always matching her purse and always within season. Every detail down to what earrings she wore was coordinated, so to see her looking even slightly disheveled, much less looking like she had been pulled from bed, made Éowyn think she was having a fever dream. She hadn’t seen her mother this not put together since they had arrived in Kirkwall all those years ago.

Leandra’s gaze zeroed in on Éowyn, the tightness in her eyes relaxing slightly. Despite her somewhat disheveled appearance, the infamous poise she held was still well in place. Isabela and Anders quickly shuffled out of her way as Leandra made her way to the bed. She dimly noted Aveline entering the room behind her mother, who shut the door firmly behind her, shutting out any others who wanted entry. Éowyn darted a quick glance at Sebastian; he offered her a slight smile before covering her hand with his.

With that slight boost of support, Éowyn met her mother’s gaze without flinching, steeling herself for whatever her mother was preparing to dish out. For despite the interaction they’d had when she had come to her office, Éowyn seriously doubted that Leandra was any more enlightened or accepting about Éowyn’s choice of profession or how she lived her life.

“Éowyn, I hope you have a good explanation for what happened tonight.”

It took everything she had to stay seated in the wheelchair. As it was, her fingers balled into fists as she clenched her jaw.

“Lovely to see you as well, Mother.” She forced herself to keep her mother’s gaze, refusing to cower under Leandra’s disapproval; years of practice in defending herself against it aiding in the effort. “Have you come all this way just to tell me how disappointed you are with my life choices? Again? Are you here to scold me for not living up to whatever ideal you think I should?” Before Leandra could respond, she continued. “It’s fascinating to me how you think that I should be able to control the actions of others. This was one man who made even poorer life choices than me and didn’t like the hand he was dealt, so he decided to take it out on me. You want someone to blame, blame him.”

“I wish for once that you could understand how this affects me and how this looks. It’s unconscionable and reckless. You are far too eager to put yourself in harm’s way.” Her gaze flicked to Sebastian. “And others, as it seems you’ve now involved a Chantry brother and descendant of the Vael family in this, this,” she waved her hand in a distracted manner, “distastefulness. He is part of a noble line!”

Éowyn opened her mouth, her temper about ready to snap, when Sebastian spoke first. “I involved myself in this distastefulness, as you call it Mrs Amell. Quite willingly I might add. One could even say that I instigated it by hiring your daughter. As I told you when we first met, I have every confidence in Éowyn’s abilities, and in the time that I’ve known her, it’s become obvious to me that I’d rather have no one else helping me with this. I have no intention of going anywhere. As for the Chantry, I left it a while ago, as you well know.”

“Well,” Leandra sniffed, “seeing as the two of you are apparently engaged I would indeed hope that you aren’t going anywhere.”

The room was silent for approximately five seconds before nearly everyone started talking at once, questions coming from all sides, their voices mixing together to where she could barely tell them apart.

“What the hell, Hawke?”

“Engaged? Maker’s mercy, when did this happen?”

“You have got to be kidding. This is a joke. It’s a joke, right?”

“But you just met him!”

“I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“I cannot believe I had to find out from a stranger. A stranger! I thought I raised you better.”

“Darling, it’s one thing to test the merchandise, another to buy it.”

“You knew about this?”

“I knew they were snogging, not engaged.”

“I can’t believe this. Hawke, I thought he was just a client.”

“Varric’s going to be so pissed he missed this.”

Éowyn glared back at Sebastian, her eyes hot as her jaw clenched and she pulled her hand away. “This is all your fault, you know,” she growled before turning back to her friends. “All of you, shut up, just shut up. We are not engaged. We are not getting married. Hell, we’re not really dating even, so you can just zip it.”

“You’re not  _ really _ dating? So, does that mean you’re  _ sort of _ dating? Isn’t even  _ sort of _ dating still dating? And even  _ sort of _ dating the client, that’s the sort of thing that’s frowned upon, am I correct?” At Éowyn’s dark look, Isabela merely shrugged. “Just asking for clarification, darling. One likes to know such things. It’s important to know where the line is, don’t you think?”

“Look everyone, it’s just all a big misunderstanding that got out of hand, and I would appreciate it if this doesn’t leave this room.” She directed her gaze back at Isabela. “And I know exactly where the line is.”

“I don’t understand. Why did that nurse tell me you were in here with your fiance?”

Éowyn sighed. “Mother, it’s like I said, it’s simply a misunderstanding that will be cleared up shortly. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“I don’t see how it’s a misunderstanding. That nurse was very clear about what she said. How can I not worry about this?”

“Nurse Bennett was just acting off of false information, she shouldn’t be blamed for anything.”

Leandra turned her gaze to Sebastian. “Is this true?”

Before he could say anything, Éowyn jumped in. “Of course it’s true, Mother. Why would I make up a thing like this?”

“Why indeed,” she responded before straightening her shoulders. “Well, then, since you are obviously not dying like I was led to believe, I’m going back home. Good night to you all.”

Anders had to scramble out of the way as Leandra marched toward the door and was gone before Éowyn could have time to form a response. The room was deathly quiet as the door shut, none of them daring to break silence before Éowyn spoke.

“Just what in the fuck did you tell her Anders to make her think that I was dying? What exactly did you say?”

“All I said was that there was an incident and that you were hurt. I didn’t say anything about you being on death’s door.”

“But you said enough for her to draw the wrong conclusion. Maker’s balls, Anders.”

“Bitch at me all you want, it was still the right thing to do. Think of how she would have reacted to read about this in the papers tomorrow. Or worse, have one of the Hightown ladies come to her with the sad news.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Now children, if you’re going to argue like this, the nice dragon lady’s going to come in here and toss us out on our asses, and I’d rather not have that happen. I happen to like this dress, it shows off all the best parts.”

“If by best parts, you mean all, I suppose you’re right about that.”

“Oh, don’t be such a prude, Aveline. Showing a bit a skin once in awhile won’t kill you. Get out of those stuffy suits once in awhile, I’m sure Donnic will love it. It’s all about finding the right color and cut…”

Éowyn must have grimaced, for Isabela narrowed her gaze, her lips pursing ever so slightly. 

“It’s not my fault. How was I supposed to know that a lunatic was going to come to my house and try to turn it into swiss cheese?”

“He nearly did turn your house into swiss cheese, Hawke. You as well. You’re lucky to be alive,” Aveline said. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m resilient as hell, what can I say.”

“Be that as it may, you’re still going to have to come to the guard house and make a statement. Captain Rutherford is still wanting to talk to you as well, both of you.” When Éowyn opened her mouth to protest, Aveline raised a placating hand. “I’ve put him off until tomorrow so you can at least get some sleep.”

“Yeah, sleep. That’s unlikely.”

“Especially considering that fact that you can’t to go back to that pile of kindling that used to be your house. Guard has tape up around it still. I believe that inspectors were in there too just to make sure there wasn’t a break in the gas line.”

“Yes, because having my house blow up in a giant fireball would just be the best way to end this day. I am well aware that my house isn’t exactly livable right now, Anders, thanks. I’ll just sleep in my office once they release me from here.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before everyone was yelling at her again, including Sebastian. If they didn’t pipe down, Nurse Bennett  _ was _ going to toss them all out on the street. In the end it was Isabela who got everyone to shut up when she raised her fingers to her lips and whistled loudly. The shrill noise pierced Éowyn’s ears, making her wince.

“Now look you, I didn’t come all the way down here for giggles and to ogle the doctors, though there were a couple of cute ones, bonus; I came down here for you because I knew that you’d be a stubborn ass and insist on sleeping in that rat trap of an office of yours. Anders here probably had the same idea, but his little apartment isn’t much better, probably worse now that I think about it. Fenris and I have a spare room you can stay in until you get your house fixed up.”

“You could also stay at my townhome. It’s not near your office, so it’s probably not convenient, but it’s an option,” Sebastian suggested quietly. Éowyn gave him a passing look before steeling herself for what she knew she had to do no matter how much her heart screamed against it.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate, don’t you?” she said slowly. “I mean, you’re my client and we’re not really engaged. It wouldn’t be professional and I think we should keep that line firmly in place and limit any speculation from now on. It’s safer for everyone involved.” She forced herself to keep her face blank as she saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes. She knew this was going to be painful, she’d prepared herself for it, but the look on his face nearly broke her resolve. As she turned away from him, she vowed that she would never be alone in the same room with him. It was cowardly, but it was a conversation she didn’t want to have.

What she wasn’t prepared for was the incredulous look on Aveline’s and Isabela’s faces and Anders’ slight smug smile. Well, maybe the smug look on Anders’ face, considering his earlier reaction, but none of their reactions pleased her. Deciding to ignore them all, she unlocked the wheels of the wheelchair and turned it toward the door.

“I think I’ve had enough of hospitals for one day. Let’s go find the dragon, as you call her, and see if she can spring me.” She paused, meeting Sebastian’s eyes, forcing the lump in her throat down. “I’ll check in with you in a couple of days. I still have some poking around to do. Just… just get some rest.”

“Éowyn-.”

“Like I said, I’ll check in with you when I have something.” She glanced furtively at Aveline, silently begging her friend to intervene and nearly sighed with relief when she gave her the slightest of nods. Aveline stepped forward, pulling out a notebook from her jacket pocket, pencil at the ready.

“I know it’s been a rough night, Mr Vael, but I do have a few questions.”

Éowyn forced herself not to turn around as she wheeled toward the door. She could feel Sebastian’s eyes on her, following her as she left the room. Aveline was talking, but the words were distant, the rush of blood in her ears making it difficult to hear anything. It took everything she had to focus on the closed door in front of her. At her raised eyebrow, Anders scrambled to open the door. Nurse Bennett was standing in the hallway, arms crossed and a most displeased look on her face.

“This is a hospital, not a brawler ring. I expected patients and their visitors to behave with at least a modicum of decency. Something I’ve not seen from any of you.” Her gaze narrowed on Éowyn. “And I have little patience for liars. Tonight’s shenanigans is something that I expect from teenagers who don’t know better, not full grown adults.”

“Well, if you just get those pesky release papers signed, my friends and I can get out of your hair.” Her voice was tight and she knew that she was on the verge of tears, so she resorted to sarcasm and glibness, two of her best weapons. Or so she was told.

“Well, you’re in luck. While you were conversing with you  _ fiance _ , I had the doctor draw up the orders for your release.”

“I never said he was my fiance.”

“But you didn’t deny it either, which is the same as lying in my book. I don’t know what game you two are playing, but you can take it out of my hospital.”

“Yes, ma’am,” all three of them said in unison, which would have been funny if they all didn’t look like teenagers caught with their hand in the cookie jar. There were some people that you just didn’t cross, and Nurse Bennett qualified as one. The woman probably knew of a hundred different ways to make you miserable and it was only by the Maker’s grace that she didn’t use them.

“Good,” she said, as she moved behind the wheelchair and pushed Éowyn forward at a speed she wasn’t entirely comfortable of. “We’ll get you out of here in ten minutes and then you can be on your way.”

~~~

It was closer to twenty by the time she was wheeled out to the drive-up to the emergency ward’s entrance. Fenris, who had apparently been waiting in the car, rolled up just as Nurse Bennett pushed her to the car. Anders started to help her out of the chair and into the car but she waved him off, more than annoyed with him at this point. Both for calling her mother and inadvertently causing the scene in Sebastian’s hospital room as well as for his reaction when the truth of her and Sebastian’s fake engagement came out. She was sorely tempted to smack the smug look he still wore on his face but exhaustion was digging its claws in. After all the excitement had died down, she was feeling her adrenaline run out and knew that if she didn’t get horizontal soon, her body would put her there. The little catnap she’d had on Sebastian’s bed barely counted as sleep.

And there was the other reason for the creeping dread and exhaustion that was weighing on her. She had to tell herself,  _ again _ , that she had made the right decision. That she was doing the right thing by pushing him back. It didn’t matter that before Samson had attacked that she’d been willing to explore what was happening between them. Or maybe it was because of it. As her thoughts tumbled through her head she came to the horrifying conclusion that she cared for Sebastian. A lot. More than she had for any other. More than she was willing to admit out loud.

She leaned her head against the back of the seat as Fenris pulled away from the hospital. Closing her eyes, she just wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that this night had never happened. 

“So, do you want to explain to me just what exactly in the seven hells is going on? Andraste’s ass, Hawke, just when I thought your life couldn’t get more complicated you throw a fake engagement into the mix? This isn’t like you.”

Keeping her eyes closed, Éowyn responded. “You know how I work when trying to get information out of a mark. Playing the lonely and slightly tipsy wife or girlfriend gets certain people to talk more than they normally would. The Harriman men definitely fit that bill. Fenris knew what I was doing.”

“You said drunk and lonely, you didn’t say anything about a fiance.”

“I thought it was implied.”

“Regardless of what Fenris knew, that fails to explain how it went from a play on a mark to your mother assuming you’re marrying one of Starkhaven’s nobility.”

“The situation got out of control. It’s pretty much  _ his _ fault that my mother got that impression. You were there. You know what happened.”

She heard the ruffle of fabric against the seat in front of her and knew that Isabela had turned to look at her full on. Stubbornly, she kept her eyes shut in a vain attempt to keep her friend from reading her.

“That’s just it. I  _ don’t _ know what’s going on with you, darling. I saw the way you look at him.  _ And _ the way he looks at you, so I’m curious as to why you turned the ice on back there.”

Éowyn finally opened her eyes. Isabela was staring at her with a mix of confusion and what could almost be considered a form of pity. No. Pity wasn’t the right word. Pity wasn’t something that Isabela did. But it was close.

“Why? Because I ruin every good thing around me. I couldn’t save Bethany. I drove Carver away. My own mother doesn’t know what to do with me. Maker knows why you put up with me. If he sticks around, I’ll ruin him in some way too.”

“Well, that’s a load of horse shit if I ever heard one.”

“Oh, fuck you too.”

“I’m being completely serious here. You’ve made the best out of the shitty hand life has dealt you. Hell, you’ve beat it back and fought for better. You aren’t seriously going to sit there and tell me that you haven’t made a difference in the lives of a good portion of Lowtown, hell of all of Kirkwall. This city may be a pile of shit, but you make it better.”

“Gee, thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

“Hawke, you know she’s right. You helped me when I first came to this city. You’re probably the only reason that I’m not rotting in the Gallows right now. I had a lot of rage back then, but you helped. That’s what you do.”

“Shut up, the both of you. I’m too exhausted to have this conversation.”

“And why do you think we’re having it now? I’ll get a more honest answer from you.”

“What do you want me to say, Isabela? That I care for the man? That I, we, crossed a line that shouldn’t have been crossed? That I’m doing this to protect him? Of fucking course I am. He comes from a different world than us, Isabela. I’ll not drag him down into it.”

“And what of him? Did you stop to consider his feelings in all this?”

“What are you, my shrink?”

“Darling, if I were, I’d be making a lot more money than the club is giving me.”

Éowyn snorted derisively before continuing. “Of course I considered his feelings, but he’ll get over it. Once this thing with the Harriman woman is put to bed, he’ll go back up to Hightown, back to Starkhaven, back to his life.”

“So you’re what, doing a pre-emptive strike to ensure that happens?”

“You’re damn right I am.”

“Well, you’re a fucking idiot then.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, Hawke. You have a chance at some real happiness here with that man. I would have never guessed it myself, but I can’t deny what I see.”

“You’ve seen nothing. Tonight was the first time you met him.”

“I’ve seen how you are, how you’ve been acting, and you’re different.”

“I most certainly am not.”

Isabela’s laughed tinkled throughout the interior of the car. “You do realize that when you get all indignant like that, you sound exactly like your mother.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Love to, darling. But based on what I saw earlier tonight, there’s someone else who would much rather be doing that.”

“It’s just not meant to be, Isabela. It can’t be.”

Isabela hummed in response. “I guess we’ll see, love, won’t we.”

~~~

Despite how exhausted she’d been, sleep hadn’t come easily, nor had it stayed peaceful. Snippets of various nightmares played through her brain as she slept. There was the old standby of Ostagar and Lothering, but now they featured a new player, and it just confirmed everything she feared.

She stood on a barren landscape, one devastated by fire and poison. Bodies lay strewn around her and she could hear nothing but the faint calls of carrion birds as they ate their fill. Where war brought famine to people, it brought a feast to the creatures who fed on it. Faces from the past and present filled the world around her. She knew it wasn’t real, that it was just a dream, but that knowledge didn’t stop the tears from falling down her face.

Something exploded behind her, followed by an ear-piercing scream. Éowyn spun around, peering through the smoke, trying to find her way forward. She tripped over something and landed face first in the blood-tinged mud. A soft groan sounded behind her. She didn’t want to look, she didn’t want to know, but she found that she was unable to stop herself. Smoke still clouded her vision, but she could make out the shape of a body, one hand flung out, as if reaching toward her. She saw the callouses on his bloody hand and felt the scream build up in her chest. Scrambling backward, she curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut. If she didn’t look, it wasn’t real. She repeated the mantra in her head. If she didn’t look, it wasn’t real. If she didn’t look, it wasn’t real.

_ Éowyn… _

Éowyn squeezed her eyes tighter as the wraithlike voice crawled over her skin, trying to burrow into her brain. It used his voice. Why did it have to use his voice?

_ Éowyn… Please… please don’t… _

The voice echoed in her head, continuing to plead with her, begging her to stop. She tried to block it out, to not hear it, but it was insistent and never ending. 

Something cracked in the air around and above her. The world flashed white and then plunged into darkness as Éowyn was shot into consciousness. Rain hammered against the windows, its pattern matching that of her racing heart. Her breath came out in streams, as if she’d been running for miles and it took some effort to get both it and her heart rate back into normal rhythms. 

Éowyn slowly extracted herself from the sheets that were wrapped around her and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Pressing the palms of her hands against her eyes, she tried to wipe away the remaining shadows the nightmare had left her with. They had been coming more frequently as of late, at a rate that hadn’t happened since just after they had arrived in Kirkwall. Back then she had treated them with alcohol and tried to ignore them during the daytime hours. She had been partially successful in that. And when she hadn’t, she forced herself to ignore it. It eventually got to the point where the nightmares were a minor nuisance that she was able to ignore for the most part, but now they were back and they weren’t forgiving.

Pushing to her feet, she limped toward the door and made her way down the darkened hallway to where she knew the kitchen to be. Whiskey. She needed whiskey. She just prayed that Isabela had some.

Turned out she needed have worried because when she entered the kitchen she found Isabela already there, two glasses of whiskey sitting in front of her. She slid on across the table to her as Éowyn sat down. 

“Figured you want one to chase the nightmares away.”

“You heard?”

“Hard not too with our room being right next door.” Isabela gave her a searching look, pausing as if trying to find the right words. “Hawke, what are you doing?”

“Drinking some damn fine whiskey.”

“Don’t be dense, you know exactly what I’m talking about. We discussed this in the car.”

“No. You lectured me, made assumptions, and I swore back at you with vigor. There wasn’t much discussion, we just talked in circles.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re so damn stubborn, too stubborn for your own good sometimes.” Again she paused, “Your nightmares are getting worse. Have you thought about why that is?”

“I can handle it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Well, that’s the only answer you’re going to get. Look, you’re one of my dearest friends but I need you to back off on this. I can handle it.” Éowyn tossed the rest of the whiskey back, relishing the feel of it as it burned down her throat. There was temptation there to snatch the bottle off the counter and take it back to her room but she shoved it back. She had too much to do to fall into that rabbit hole. And she’d still be in the same place she was when she eventually crawled out.

“If you say so,” Isabela responded, doubt filling her voice. “I still think you’re taking the wrong track by shutting him out.”

“Better to do it now than later. Better now before something happens that we can’t take back.”

Isabela just shook her head. “Like the sex that almost happened in my dressing room?”

“Among other things.”

“Darling, I love you, you know that, and I still think you’re being an idiot about all of this. But it’s your life, and--.”

“Damn right it is.”

“ _ And _ , I’ll support you no matter what you decide.”

Éowyn blinked at that, expecting to get more pushback from her friend. When she said as much, Isabela just laughed.

“Oh darling, I’m the last one who should be lecturing anyone on how they’re living their life. What’s the saying about glass houses? We all come with our own baggage, some’s just a little heavier than others. It’s all in how we deal with it; if we try to carry it ourselves, or if we let others help carry the load. Tricky bit is knowing where to find that balance and knowing when to tell others to stuff it.”

“That’s rather poetic of you Isabela. And I have no problem telling people to stuff it.” She reached forward and grabbed the whiskey bottle, pouring another two fingers in her glass before refilling Isabela’s.

“It’s one of your best qualities, my dear, one you’ve shown in high form tonight. Just, just think on what I said. I’d hate for you to do something rash only to regret it later.” A sad, quiet look flashed across Isabela’s face, gone almost as quickly as it came. “Look, I know I’m not the best at the emotional stuff. I’m probably the last person in all the world who should be giving you relationship advice, at least about the mushy bits. Ask me about positions or oils and the best spots to--.”

“Isabela! I  _ really _ don’t want to discuss that.”

“Oh, fine, spoilsport.” Isabela sighed. “You have a good heart, Hawke. You care about people. You deserve some happiness.”

“Aww, you really do care.”

“Shut up and drink your whiskey.”

Éowyn smirked into her glass. Talking with Isabela helped sweep the shadows of the nightmare away. As for the rest of it, well, she’d have to deal with it when that day came.


	16. Chapter 16

It was past noon by the time Éowyn returned to her house. Thanks to Isabela’s foresight, she had her own clothes to change into and didn’t have to borrow from her friend. In the light of day she could clearly see just how much damage Samson had done and it was worse than she thought. All the windows were blown out, glass littering the front room, blown back as far as the hallway to the back of the house. Bullet holes riddled the walls, puncturing the sheetrock and the damage was so significant Éowyn doubted that all the spackle in Kirkwall could fix it; she was fairly certain that she’d have to replace whole portions of the walls. Her refrigerator was a total loss as was a lot of her furniture. She guessed that it was going to take all of the money Sebastian was paying her and then some to completely repair the house, money she didn’t have. Perhaps it would have been better for one of Samson’s bullet to have hit a gas line.

“Fuck.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself. Maker’s balls, Hawke, what happened? I mean, I can pretty much guess, but still.”

“An asshole with a gun. That’s what happened. Fortunately I came away mostly unscathed. Can’t say the same about Sebastian.”

“Yeah. I heard that Choir Boy got winged. Shame, but I hear that the ladies like men with scars.”

Éowyn glared at him. “First off, never say the phrase ‘the ladies’ ever again. Second, not even remotely funny.”

Varric held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, don’t shoot the guy with the bad joke.” His face sobered. “Seriously though, are you okay?”

She kicked at a chunk of sheetrock and watched as it skittered across the floor. “I don’t know Varric. I was getting somewhere with this case. Johane Harriman is behind everything, I know it, I just need to prove it, but that jackass Samson has set me back.” Éowyn scowled at her foot and the cane she was currently leaning on. She had tried earlier to walk without it, but the placement of the cut and the stitches holding it together made it difficult. She was going to give it a couple more days before ditching the cane, pain or no pain.

“He sure did make a mess of this place. You have a place to stay?”

“Isabela’s letting me use her spare room until I get this patched up.” She shook her head and sighed. “Which will probably be the far side of never and I’ll just end up moving into my office. Look at it Varric, do you know how much money it’s going to take to fix all this? More than I have, that’s for damn sure.”

“Sometimes you don’t need money.”

Éowyn turned and stared at him. Don’t need money? Had he gone mad? She was about to say as much when she noticed a crowd growing outside. Frowning, she moved slowly to what was left of her door and stared in disbelief as more than a half dozen people were gathered on her lawn, all carrying various tools and materials. She spotted Owen pushing a wheelbarrow twice his size up the sidewalk, two of his friends at his side, picking up debris and chucking it into the barrow. Some of the people she recognized as clients she had helped in the past, some she knew vaguely in passing, others she had never seen before.

“Varric, who are these people?”

“I’m sure you recognize some of them, Hawke. All of them though, they know of the good you have done for others and for Kirkwall. I think they want to give some of that back.”

“People don’t just do things out of the goodness of their hearts, Varric,” she said even as she watched a trio of workers start to pull the bullet ridden wooden siding off, their mood jovial as they threw good natured insults back at each other. A lump formed in the back of her throat. Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that people would be this generous. It just wasn’t in her experience to expect that.

Varric chuckled. “Well, these people here seem to disagree with that statement.”

“This was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“I wish I could take credit for this, Hawke, but no, you can thank the Boy Wonder over there. He spread the word of what happened, and once people heard, well, here you go.”

“Owen did this?”

“He’s damned handy. Should get him on my payroll.”

“He’s too young to be working for you, Varric, or anyone for that matter. He should be off playing with his friends.”

“Hawke, that kid idolizes you and would do anything for you. You should have seen him in my office this morning, worried sick about you and worried that you wouldn’t have a place to live anymore. What could I do? He has the same look Merrill has that you just can’t say no to.”

“I _knew_ you were behind this.”

“Not just him, Miss Hawke, but me as well.”

Éowyn and Varric turned at the new voice. Sebastian’s Uncle Gideon stood on what used to be the threshold, looking very much unlike how she had last seen him. Gone was the tweed suit and bow tie; he looked less like an genial professor and more like a man willing to get his hands dirty despite the tailored vest he wore.

“Mr, ah-,” Éowyn faltered when she realized that she had no idea what Sebastian’s uncle’s last name was. He had simply been introduced as ‘Uncle Gideon’ as if no other explanation was needed.

“Oh, it’s Darrow, my dear, but I insist that you call me Gideon. I’m not nearly as stuffy as I look,” he smiled. “I received a call from Leandra this morning, explaining what happened. Are you alright, my dear?” The kindness in his voice made her want to weep. His accent was lighter than Sebastian’s; the burr comfortably familiar and yet different at the same time. Many had asked her over the last, Maker, was it only twelve hours? Many had asked her the same, but she had been able to brush off their concerns for the most part. She found that it was more difficult with Sebastian’s uncle. Despite the fact that the two men weren’t related, she could spot similarities between him and Sebastian. Their unending kindness toward others being one of them.

“As good as I can be, I guess. It… it was a rough night.”

“So I hear. I stopped by the hospital to see Sebastian before coming here.”

Her stomach clenched, a tiny tendril of fear weaving through. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine my dear, don’t worry. They had given him some pain medication, so he was a bit fuzzy and wasn’t making a whole lot of sense. He asked after you, though. Wanted to know how you were doing.”

His eyes were gentle, but she could see the questions forming behind them, questions she wasn’t sure she could answer. Or wanted to.

“I told him last night that I would check in with him in a few days. He needs to rest and heal, not worry about what I’m doing.”

“It wasn’t so much the what and more the how, but let’s leave that for later. Right now I find that I’m quite famished. Left Starkhaven this morning with only a cup of tea in my belly. Why don’t you and I get something to eat. You look like you could use some food as well.”

“You should take him to The Hanged Man. I hear Corff has his special meatballs on the menu today,” Varric suggested. “I might tag along, if that’s fine with you. Since I’ve been banned from my usual lunch, those meatballs of his are the only thing that’s keeping me going.”

Éowyn wrinkled her nose at him, knowing exactly what the reason was behind his statement. She had technically discussed the Hightown nobles with her mother; the fact that Leandra had come to her instead of the other way around was irrelevant. The important fact was that Varric’s lunch of choice was banned from existence for a month.

Gideon’s eyes lit up. “Meatballs? Please, don’t tease me.”

“Mr Darrow, I never joke about food. Especially meatballs.”

“Gideon, please. I get more than enough formalness in Starkhaven.”

Varric laughed. “Well, if you want the rough and tumble, you’ve definitely come to the right place. Kirkwall will blow up your skirt and steal your knickers if you’re not careful.”

“Your friend has a way with words, my dear.”

“Considering he’s the Editor in Chief of the Kirkwall Herald-Examiner, I would hope so. There’s also the not-so-secret fact that he’s written several detective novels,” Éowyn said, trying very hard not to grimace at that last part. She suspected that Varric had based his main character of one of his series on her, but she could never get him to admit it. One of these days though, she’d get him nice and drunk and get the truth. There was also the option of beating it out of him but she valued his friendship too much to do that.

“My goodness, you’re _that_ Varric Tethras? I do so enjoy your novels. I’ve lost many an hour of sleep because I couldn’t put them down.”

“The detective series is one of the most popular ones. People seem to really enjoy reading about Serena Steel.”

“Oh, ah, yes. I have your detective novels, but it’s your other series that I really love.”

Varric’s eyes widened slightly. “The romance serials? You have got to be kidding me. Those barely sell enough to pay for the paperwork they’re printed on.”

“I guess you could say that I’m a romantic at heart. The last one, Game of Dawn, it was one of my favorites.”

“Huh, well it’s nice to know that there are some people who enjoy them.”

“Oh, indeed. I met this lovely Nevarran woman in a bookstore once. We both grabbed for the last copy of Shielded Heart and got to talking. She’d probably be embarrassed that I said this, but I do think she’s your biggest fan.”

“Biggest fan, eh? Those can be tricky. I heard about a guy whose biggest fan kidnapped him and held him prisoner for over a month. Poor guy still walks with a limp.”

“Varric, that’s such a load of horseshit.”

“It’s all true, Hawke, I swear. All of it. His editor wanted him to write a book about it but he refused, wrote about his childhood in Denerim’s south side instead.”

Éowyn couldn’t help but roll her eyes. There was probably some small kernel of truth to what Varric was saying, but it sounded more like the plot to one of his books than something that really happened. Varric always did like to embellish from time to time when not doing hard news.

She looked back over her lawn and house. People were swarming in and out, hauling out broken furniture. Two men were carefully working at the window frames, wearing thick gloves to protect their hands from the broken glass. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, still overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of these people. How in all of Thedas was she going to repay them?

Varric clapped a hand on her shoulder, gently pulling her away from the scene. “Come on, Hawke. I know you haven’t eaten yet, you must be hungry. My treat.”

“If you’re trying to take my mind off this by giving me food-.”

“You’d be partially right. I get to eat in this scenario too, so it’s not entirely selfless.”

“Well, if you’re buying, who am I to say no.”

It was actually a pleasant walk to The Hanged Man with the sun shining and a light breeze keeping the worst of the heat away, though her foot was throbbing by the time they got there. Éowyn hoped that the thing healed quickly, she couldn’t afford to let it slow her down, not when she was so close to shutting the book on Sebastian’s case.

Corff gave her the side-eye as they entered, probably wondering if he’d have to get a table replaced by the time she left. Éowyn just nodded to him as they passed, not up to their normal verbal sparring. A small, dark part of her was grateful that it was Merrill’s day off; she felt even less up to dealing with Merrill’s excitable nature and the inevitable tears. A huge part of her just wanted to crawl back into bed, but she had too much to do and she had a bad feeling that time was running out.

She was halfway through her lunch when a thought occurred to her and she wanted to kick herself for not thinking of it sooner.

“Mr Darrow--.”

“Gideon, my dear. We needn’t be so formal with each other.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that saying ‘needn’t’ wasn’t exactly common but swallowed it with a sip of her soda.

“Alright,” she said slowly, willing to indulge him. “When we first met in Starkhaven, Sebastian told me that you’re on the board of directors at Vael Consolidated.”

“That’s true, but it’s more like herding cats than anything else. Can’t get them to agree on anything as they’re too busy trying to oust Goran and put themselves in the big chair. On the bright side, their infighting helps keep their arses out of said seat. Which means that it’s usually up to me to clean up any messes Goran makes.”

“Does he make a lot of them?”

“Not as many as you would think considering he’s a child in a man’s body, but enough to where I do keep a supply of aspirin handy. Maker help us all if he ever decides to try to really do something with the company.”

“From what I’ve heard, he’s a useless piece of shit who can’t punch his way out of a wet paper bag.”

“Have you had dealings with him, Varric?”

“Not personally, thank the Maker, but my colleagues in Starkhaven have spilled their fair share of ink covering him, and for once they were willing to share. Which is telling since reporters are some of the most territorial creatures out there.”

“Ha! And some of the most persistent. There’s one in Starkhaven who calls my office at least once a week asking for clarification on one thing or another. I can admire that kind of dedication, but Maker’s breath, it makes one not want to pick up the phone sometimes.”

“Ouch. It’s a tricky line, but a good reporter should know when to push and when to have a light touch. Push too hard and you just piss people off.” Varric slid a glance at Éowyn. “Though there are some who seem to realish in pissing people off.”

“I resent that. And I’d say it’s more that they piss me off. I can only handle so much stupid.”

“Hawke, if we got rid of all the idiots in the world, the population would be cut in half. At minimum.”

“And we’re getting off topic here,” she said, just barely restraining herself from kicking Varric in the shin before turning back to Gideon. “Without breaching any confidentiality you’re under, what can you tell me of the Harimanns?”

“Well, my dear, the elder Lord Harimann I liked quite a lot. He would go grouse hunting with Sebastian’s grandfather and I. The younger generation, well, they are a bit more, to put it politely, not of the same stock.”

“Same stock? What are they, thoroughbreds?”

Gideon snorted. “Johane would like to think so, yes,” he paused. “That woman has a ruthlessness to her that’s unsettling. A certain amount of ruthlessness is required in running any successful business, but, well, Johane Harimann is a complicated woman.”

Éowyn couldn’t help the snort that escaped her. Complicated didn’t begin to cover it if what she suspected was true.

“Something funny, my dear?”

“In a way. No one I’ve talked to seems to think much of her, even her own family.” At Gideon’s curious look, she elaborated. “I had the dubious honor of meeting the male half last night…” Éowyn had to stop and steady herself, closing her eyes briefly. A hand closed over hers. She reopened her eyes to see Gideon looking at her, a reassuring smile on his face.

“What happened last night was not your fault, my dear. I hope you know that. I know that Sebastian knows that.”

Éowyn couldn’t meet his eyes. That was so easy for him to say, but then he didn’t have to live with the certainty of knowing that it _was_ her fault. Sebastian wouldn’t have gotten hurt if she hadn’t brought him home, if she hadn’t opened that invisible door and let him in.

She cleared her throat, attempting to settle herself. Maker’s breath, if she was going to act like this with a near stranger, what was it going to be like when she saw Sebastian again? Could she feel more like a teenager experiencing her first angst? She wasn’t sure.

Clearing her throat, she continued. “Anyway, Johane Harimann. Does she have much involvement with Vael Consolidated?”

“No more than any other stockholder, I would think. Aggressive in some areas, less so in others, but I like mentioned earlier, not very well liked among the other holders. She was quite vocal about getting Goran appointed to CEO.”

“What about her daughter?”

“Flora?” Gideon’s eyebrows rose comically, truly surprised by the question. “Flora’s a dear, sweet girl, but not all that social, or business minded from what I can tell. She has spent some time with Goran I know, but much to Johane’s consternation, nothing has come from it that I’m aware of. Something for which I’m grateful.”

“Really?”

“Quite. Flora is a nice girl. On the quiet side, perhaps, but nice. And, well, forgive me if this sounds a bit unkind, but the sooner she gets out from underneath Johane’s thumb the better. Such a sweet girl deserves better. Definitely deserves better than Goran.”

Éowyn nodded noncommittally as she munched on a fry. That pretty much jived with everything she had learned of the Harimanns but it didn’t point her in the direction of the smoking gun. There were just too many damned rocks in this case for her to kick over.

“Can’t say as I can disagree with that. From everything I’ve heard about the Harimann matriarch, she’s a stone cold bitch willing to sacrifice anything and everything to get what she wants,” Varric said before stuffing his face with another meatball. Éowyn idly wondered just how many he’d be able to stuff in his mouth and still be able to talk.

“Ah, yes, quite.” Gideon coughed. “I say, you don’t think she has anything to do with what happened to the Vaels, do you?”

Éowyn thought about it for a moment and then decided that she had nothing to lose. “I believe so, yes. I can’t prove it as such, yet, but I’m pretty damned sure she’s behind it all.”

“I see. I do wish I could be of more help to you, my dear, I really do, but I’m afraid my knowledge of nefarious dealings like that is limited to Mr Tethras’s books.”

“Well there goes my illusions of boardroom drama and intrigue,” Varric said.

“Oh, things do get a bit tense, especially with them jockeying for Goran’s seat, but I wouldn’t suspect any of them capable of committing murder. At least, not premeditated.”

“Everyone’s capable of murder, Gideon, given the right push. But I do thank you for your insight.”

Gideon reached out and patted her hand again. “You’ll find out who did this. I am certain of it.”

Éowyn smiled tightly in thanks. Maker, she hoped he was right.

~~~

Rain slashed at her office windows, the noise drowning out the late night sounds of the city. Éowyn had been staring at the papers in front of her for so long that her eyes were starting to cross. She knew that Johane Harriman was behind the Vael murders, she _knew_ it, she just couldn't prove it. Everything she had was conjecture and circumstantial, nothing solid enough to bring to Aveline. It had been almost a week since the night of the shooting and she was no closer. She was spinning her wheels here and going nowhere fast.

It didn't help that she had yet to see Sebastian. Despite her determination to turn their relationship back to a more professional one, she ached for his presence, for his touch. Her dreams weren't helping either. And they were lovely dreams compared to her normal horrific fare. Lovely dreams that left her aching upon waking with only herself to relieve it. While it did take the edge off, it was only temporary.

Maker she wanted a drink. It wouldn't solve anything but perhaps it would quiet his ghost.

She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as she tried to center herself. Normally she didn't go in for the meditation crap that Merrill insisted would help her, but she was at a point to where she was willing to try anything to regain her unbiased focus. Something that would help keep the rational part of her brain in power.

The problem with trying to meditate is that she most often fell asleep than clear her head, as was the case now. The sound of the rain faded as she started to fall and let the sandman take her under.

Which was probably why she didn't hear the footsteps approaching her door and barely registered it opening.

"I should have known to look for you here first."

Éowyn's eyes flew open as she sat up straight in her chair, reaching for her gun at her side. She relaxed only slightly when she saw who it was. Sebastian stood in the doorway, the dim light from the hallway silhouetting him, putting his face in shadow. She watched him carefully as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Sebastian."

She couldn't quite see it, but she just knew that he was raising an eyebrow at her with annoyance spreading across his face. He was upset, his whole body positively stiff with not quite anger but it sure as hell wasn't happiness either.

"I've been busy. Working on the case. The case you hired me to solve," she said, again reminding herself of her vow to keep a professional distance.

"So I've heard. Uncle Gideon told me as much when he picked me up from the hospital today."

Guilt spread through her. She had told him before she left that she would check in with him in a few days but she kept finding excuses to delay seeing him. Kept trying to convince herself that it was pointless to give him an update when she had nothing to give.

He stepped forward then, dropping his hat on her desk before sitting in the chair across from her. Rain dripped from the edges on to her desk but she couldn’t bother herself to care. He was here, in her office, looking too handsome for his own good. The situation was so similar to the night he had first come to her that she couldn't stop the shiver from running up her spine. All that was missing was the whiskey bottle.

"Oh."

When he didn't respond, she shifted in her seat, the guilt rising even as she tried to stuff it down. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't come to see you, but I've been busy working on the case, your case. Been chasing down leads and going through more paperwork than I care to admit," she paused and then added lamely, "I've been busy."

He still didn't respond, just stared at her with those blue eyes that were once so intense but we're now looking at her almost dispassionately, like she was a random stranger on the street. Her gut twisted at the thought even though this was what she wanted, what she felt was necessary to keep him safe.

"And have you come any closer to proving Johane Harriman's involvement in my family's murders?" His voice was cool and distant and so unlike anything she had heard come out of his mouth. He might as well be ordering a meal with how even his tone was. No, that wasn't quite right. Even when interacting with a waitress or someone in a similar position, he had always done so with a kind smile and soft eyes. There was nothing kind nor soft in his manner now.

A tiny voice in the back of her head taunted her, saying that she should have been careful for what she wished for.

"No," she said slowly. "I know it in my gut that she's responsible but she's covered her tracks well. It's almost like..."

"Almost like what?" he asked when she trailed off and was silent for several seconds. Éowyn snapped herself back, focusing on the matter at hand.

"It doesn't matter. It was a ridiculous thought."

"Almost like what, Miss Hawke?"

Her gut clenched even tighter at his formality. She had to force the lump that formed in her throat down before she could speak.

"Almost like magic. Which I know is ridiculous, but you can't pull off something like this and not leave a paper trail of some kind. She had to have had help of some sort."

To his credit he didn't laugh or even snort at her wild suggestion. It was a child's excuse and something that had no place in this office.

For want of of something witty to say, she stood up and walked to her board. Papers were thumb tacked to it in a haphazard way that the only one besides herself that could make sense of it would be Carver. She had strings crisscrossing and overlapping, connecting the dots. The problem was that she couldn't find the source.

"I've tried working backwards, forwards, and sideways on this and I can only get so far. She must have connections, good ones that don't leave a trail. The more I think on it the more I believe that she had help. The woman's ambitious and ruthless, but she's also from high society and not likely to have easy connections to the underworld."

She had been staring at the board, trying for the millionth time to find the pattern, but felt a sudden movement behind her. Turning, she found Sebastian standing not two feet away, his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the board behind her, staring past her almost as if she wasn't there. And it was that, more than anything, that made her temper start to spike.

"So what you're telling me is that you've found nothing. You've got nothing."

"I didn't say that. It's there, somewhere, I know it, I just have to find the right rock to kick over."

"You've kicked over plenty of rocks since I've hired you; I've yet to see any tangible results."

Oh, that was it. She was done playing nice.

"If you're unhappy with my work, Mr Vael, there are plenty of other PIs in Kirkwall that can go kicking at rocks for you. I told you from day one that this wouldn't be easy. I told you that I would do everything I could to find justice for your family. I've worked my ass off on this, but apparently your faith in my abilities to solve this only goes so far."

She started to step away, knowing that she was dangerously close to doing something she would regret, when he snatched her arm and held her still. His fingers were hot against her skin, almost as if he was branding her with his touch.

"I never said anything about doubting your abilities in regards to work."

"Funny, it seems the exact opposite from where I'm standing." She tried to tug her arm away, but he just tightened his grip. "You're going to want to remove your hand before you lose it. I've dropped others flat for doing less."

He let go of her arm but stepped in closer, invading her space. She could smell the soap from his skin and the musky scent that was just him and it took great willpower not to deeply inhale so she could keep the smell with her after he left. Because he was going to leave. It's just what was going to happen. What had to happen.

"You're crowding me, Vael."

"I would apologize but it seems to be the only way I can get your full attention."

"Your case has had my full attention since I started working on it. I've not worked on anything else."

"For a smart woman, you can be incredibly obtuse."

"Oh, fuck you, Sebastian. Now get out of my way. Get out of my office in fact. I gave you an update. There's nothing else to talk about."

That cool facade fell for just a moment and she saw the hurt lying underneath. She almost apologized. Almost.

"Nothing else to talk about. Really?"

"Yes, really. Now move."

She shoved around him, making for her desk. She half expected him to grab her again, almost wanted him to because it would have given her an excuse to lash out, but he kept his hands to himself and kept the distance she had put between them in place.

Her hands were shaking as she tried to sort some of the papers on her desk in an attempt to distance herself. She could feel him behind her, feel him staring at her and it took everything she had not to turn back around and face him. She knew she was close to breaking and that if she looked at him her resolve would crumble, and she cared too much to put him in another position where he could be hurt.

“You should go. I have nothing more to tell you; I’ve given you everything I have at the moment. If that changes I’ll contact you.” She held her breath and waited, certain that he was going to argue with her more. Instead he stepped forward and silently picked up his hat from her desk. Éowyn kept her eyes on the papers in her hands but couldn’t for the life of her decipher the words as he stepped away and walked to the door. She thought he was going to leave without saying anything but then he spoke, sadness ringing through his voice.

“For awhile there, I thought, well, I don’t fully know what I thought, but I knew what I was feeling. I thought you did too. I guess I was wrong on all accounts and I’m sorry for that.” A pause. “Goodbye, Éowyn.”

She heard the door open and felt her heart fall out of her chest. He thought that she didn’t care? That she didn’t… Papers flew to the floor as her hand flew up to her mouth to stop the sob that escaped past her lips. She braced herself with her other hand against the desk, needing the leverage to keep standing as suddenly her legs didn’t want to work properly.

She had thought that she was doing the smart thing, the safe thing by stepping back and putting a professional distance between them. Idiot that she was, it was too little, too late, and now he was gone.

Another muffled sob escaped and she could feel tears start to fall. Maker’s balls, when had she gone and fallen in love with him?

It shouldn’t have been possible. Who falls in love over a handful of weeks? That was the stuff of romance novels, not her life.

Except that it apparently was.

What was she going to do?

She had made a decision because she was scared. Scared of losing another person she cared about. It had been the wrong decision and now she was stuck with it.

Of all the PIs in all of Kirkwall, why did he have to come to her door?

The Maker apparently had a perverse sense of humor.

She tried to take in a breath but her chest was too tight, air refused to come in. Or out. Her hand dropped from her mouth to her chest, hoping that somehow that would help. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest, the feeling echoing the pounding in her head and she knew that she was dangerously close to passing out.

A hand laid carefully on her shoulder and without thinking she turned into it, nearly collapsing into the arms as her legs finally gave out. Arms came around her and held her gently as she cried into the soft linen shirt. Through her tears she could hear soft humming and the solid thump-thump of a heartbeat, both served to bring her calm.

Éowyn took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. Calmer now, she pushed back a little; not far enough to leave his embrace, but enough to put a little space between them to where she could look at him if she were to look up, something she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to do.

She smoothed out his shirt and moved her hands to his arms. Through the linen sleeve she could feel the bandage wrapped around his arm. She stepped back quickly as if it had burned her and banged into her desk. Her chest started to tighten up again as she stared at his arm, unable to take her eyes off it.

“Gideon was right. You do blame yourself.”

Éowyn snapped her gaze to his, looking at him for the first time. “Because it is my fault. If you hadn’t been there, if I hadn’t let you in, that wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt. Being around me is dangerous.”

“There’s no doubt that your chosen profession can be dangerous, but Éowyn, that doesn’t necessarily mean that being around you is dangerous.”

Éowyn stared at him in disbelief and then pointedly at his arm. “You could have easily died from that Sebastian. An inch to either side, a bone splinter gone the wrong way, the medics delayed in getting you to the hospital. If the doctors hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding, if you’d gotten an infect-.”

Sebastian stepped forward, cupping her face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears. “That’s quite a lot of ifs, _mo chridhe_. Do you always look for the worst case scenario?”

“You say that like you haven’t met me.”

“I’ve known you long enough to know that you try to take the weight of the world on your shoulders. That you care fiercely for others, friends, neighbors, strangers; you put yourself on the line for them, no matter the risk to yourself.

“Honestly, you scare the shite out of me.”

Éowyn stared at him. “ _I_ scare _you_?”

“You terrify me. I didn’t quite know what to expect when I first came to your door all those weeks ago, but I didn’t expect to find you.”

“You expected to find my brother.”

“You know perfectly well what I meant, Éowyn.” He trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek before tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t expect this either, you know. Never did, especially after having been in the Chantry for so long. Even after I left it was never something I sought out. Fact of the matter is that I care very much for you, more than I’ve cared for any other woman. However, no matter how I feel about you, if this isn’t something you want, I will step back, no questions.”

Silence hung between them for several moments. He was willing to step back? It was a rare person who was willing to set their feelings aside in respect of others. He was almost too good to be true.

“Stay.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so there's smut here ahead. Quite a bit. Hence the increase in the rating to explicit. But there's also later mentions/descriptions of war and blood. Fair warning.

Éowyn held her breath as she waited for Sebastian to say something. He was quiet, longer than she would have expected. He just looked at her, not moving, just looking at her. Had she misjudged?

“You’re sure?”

Relief punctured through her as she was able to breathe again.

“Yes, I am. For once, I am.”

Éowyn stepped forward, rising up on her toes slightly as she placed a hand on his cheek. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips gently against his briefly, like a whisper, before pulling back. Thunder rolled in the skies above them but the only thing she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears. She was taking a huge leap, one of the biggest she’d ever taken.

“I choose you, Sebastian. It scares the hell out of me and I’m probably going mad, but I choose you. I didn’t see you coming, but you’ve crawled under my skin and it’s like an itch I can’t scratch.” At his raised eyebrow, she chuckled softly. “The good kind of itch, you dummy.”

Her hands moved up into his hair as she pulled him closer and kissed him again. He smelled like rain and a spicy scent that she couldn’t quite place; it enveloped her just as his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer. A shiver ran through her as he nipped lightly at her bottom lip before deepening the kiss. She felt his hand tug at her shirt, tugging it out of the waistband of her slacks before his callused fingers traced up her spine, sending another shiver through her.

Éowyn pushed back from him slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping eye contact. Her hands slid down and pushed his jacket off his shoulders, sliding it down his arms before moving to his tie. Her fingers nimbly untied it, sliding the cloth down before tossing it away. His pupils dilated as her fingers then moved to the buttons of his shirt. Slowly, she popped each button out of its hole, before pulling his shirt open, revealing the tanned skin underneath. She leaned forward then, finally succumbing to the urge she’d had almost since the first time she set eyes on him and inhaled deeply before dragging her tongue up his throat. Sebastian let out a strangled groan as his hands grabbed her hips again and pulled her flush against him.

“You’re not the only one who has someone under their skin. I mean it when I say that I wasn’t looking for this either,” he paused, delving his fingers into her hair, letting the strands flow through his fingers, twirling the ends. “But I am glad it has happened. Even if you are infuriating at times.”

“ _I’m_ infuriating? Please, you’re-.”

Éowyn was cut off when he kissed her again, his lips capturing hers. A sigh escaped her as she leaned into him again. She could feel the heat pouring off him and pulled his shirt further apart so she could press closer to him. It had been a long time since she had been this close to someone, not just physically, but emotionally as well. A long time since she had wanted to.

She ran her tongue along his lower lip before nipping it lightly. Sebastian’s hands spanned her ribcage, bumping against her gun holster.

“You appear to be armed, Detective,” he said against her lips as his clever fingers felt for the release. “Shall we remedy that?” He slid the harness down her arms and Éowyn was forced to let go of him. He dropped it on the desk behind her but before she could reach for him, his hands wrapped around her wrists, acting as manacles as he held her arms behind her back. She tried to lean forward to kiss him again but he held himself just out of reach.

“Disarmed and now restrained. Hmm,” he murmured, leaning closer. Éowyn tried to turn her head to kiss him but he let go of her wrists with one hand and snaked it up into her hair. With a light tug he pulled her head back, exposing her throat. Sebastian bent down, repeating the motion she had done just minutes before and ran his tongue up the column of her throat before taking her earlobe between his teeth, nipping it before moving back down her throat, his breath hot against her skin. Éowyn’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as a soft moan escaped her.

“Cheater,” she whispered as he placed a kiss at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She felt his lips curve against her skin before he nudged the collar of her shirt out of the way so he could kiss her shoulder.

“I could help you with that if you let my arms go.”

“I think I can muddle my way through,” he said as he let go of her hair and slid his hand around her body, inching across her ribcage before palming her breast. Éowyn swore even as she arched into his hand, tugging ineffectually at her arms. She wanted to touch him, taste him, and being denied that was only making her want it more.

His hand moved to her shirt worked on the buttons as he finally let go of her wrists to splay his hand across her lower back, his fingers tracing up her spine. Her freedom didn’t last long as he made quick work of her shirt and dragged it down her arms along with her bra. She hadn’t even realized that he had unhooked it until she felt his thumb brushing against her bare nipple, causing it to harden as a strangled moan escaped from her. Éowyn wiggled out of the rest of her shirt and nearly tore his off, scraping her nails down his arms before tossing the shirt away.

She jumped up, wrapping her legs around his waist before kissing him, trusting him to hold her. Sebastian stumbled back only step before hoisting her up and holding her to him. Éowyn felt herself grow wet as she felt him grow hard against her. Smiling against his lips, she snaked her hand down between them and palmed him through his trousers. Her smile grew wider as she heard him growl and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Maker, this felt good. She felt good. No, it was more than that. She couldn’t really put a name to it, but simply, she felt good.

It was with a sudden whoosh that she found herself dumped on the sofa. She hadn’t even realized that they’d been moving, she was that lost in him. Sebastian hovered above her, one arm braced above her head, the other resting on her hip, his thumb caressing against the skin just above the waistline to her pants. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers softly, once, twice, before slowly moving his way down her throat to her chest. Éowyn cried out and arched into him when he took her nipple into his mouth. Heat flushed through her, every place he touched, kissed, licked felt like it was on fire.

She cradled his head in her hands as he paid diligent attention to her breasts. Her skin tingled everywhere he touched. He suddenly sat up, his fingers unbuttoning her pants and sliding them off her. His hands ran up her legs, the tips of his fingers grazing over the delicate skin behind her knee, causing her breath to hitch. When his hands reached her hips, he toyed with the edges of her panties, a questioning look in his eyes. Éowyn nodded slowly in agreement, biting her lower lip as he dragged those down her legs as well. She lay bare before him now, scars and all.

“You are amazing.”

Sebastian then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the large one on the inside of her hip, a memento from the battle of Ostagar from where shrapnel had ripped through her. He moved up further to her waist and placed another kiss on the thin jagged scar where a street thief’s knife had gotten lucky. She was trembling by the time he reached her shoulder, pressing more kisses to the scars left by the shotgun blast she had sustained in their escape from Lothering. He placed another kiss on the newest scar on her arm, gained the night he had been shot. No one had shown her such care before. The few people she’d been with had either ignored the scars or actively avoided them, but Sebastian was different. He sought them out, kissing and touching each one. Éowyn felt tears prick the corners of her eyes even as her body heated under his touch.

He must have noticed, because he pulled back, a worried look on his face.

“What’s wrong? Is this not okay?”

Éowyn shook her head, wiping away the tears, feeling stupid. “No, it’s fine. Perfect actually. It’s just that, well, the scars have never been something anyone had treated gently before.”

A frown briefly crossed his face before he leaned forward and kissed her, his lips soft yet firm and insistent upon hers as his hands delved into her hair. Éowyn wasn’t ready for the storm of emotions she felt coming off from him and she grasped at his back, revelling in the feel of his skin. She brought up a leg and hooked it around his waist, intent on pulling him closer, but he pulled back again. Éowyn thought that she must look quite a sight, what with tear filled eyes and hair going every which way, but it didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he looked upon her as if she was his whole world.

“Ah, _mo chridhe_ ,” he said, brushing her hair off her face. “If they can’t accept all of you, then those people don’t deserve you.”

Éowyn’s breath caught in her throat at his words. He looked at her with such intent that she knew he meant them. She wasn’t sure what to say to that. Instead, she reached up for him and brought his head down to her, kissing him with all the emotions she was feeling. Sebastian groaned as she wrapped her legs around his waist again and arched up into him. She could feel him through his linen trousers and suddenly decided that the barrier should go the way with the rest of their clothes. Reaching down between them, she quickly undid his belt and slid her hands over his ass, pulling his trousers and boxers down. When her arms couldn’t reach any further, she used a foot to push them the rest of the way, sliding said foot slowly back up the inside of his leg. Finally free of it’s confines, she felt his erection press against her stomach, hot and hard against her skin.

Sebastian growled in the back of his throat as she wrapped her hand around him, her fingers moving slowly up and down, tracing the veins and brushing over the tip that already had a bit of pre-cum pooling on the surface. He had been kissing down her neck, but at her touch he spasmed and thrust in her grip. Éowyn smiled a little at his brief loss of control and wondered what else she could do to make him completely lose that tight reign he kept on it. She didn’t get much time to plan as he reached down inbetween them and slid his fingers into her, moving oh slowly in and out of her as his thumb pressed against her clit.

“Two can play at that game, _mo chridhe_ ,” he said, his voice low and guttural as she cried out at his touch. Éowyn’s mind went blank as he continued his ministrations, her hand losing its grip on him. It didn’t seem fair that he could elicit this response from her. She arched into his hand, angling her hips to take him in deeper, willing him to find that sweet spot as her toes curled into fists. A hoarse cry let loose from her as he found it, her entire body going rigid as she clenched around his still moving fingers, his thumb working steadily against her clit. Éowyn pressed her head into his shoulder, biting the skin there to muffle the sounds he was bringing from her. With his other hand, Sebastian pulled her head back, placing bruising kisses of his own down her throat and chest. Éowyn whimpered when he took her breast into his mouth again, his other hand palming the other one, rolling her stiff nipple between his fingers.

“Oh, Maker,” she managed as he continued down her body, his mouth hovering just above where his fingers still moved. He had changed the pace, sliding slowly in and out while curving them upward, rotating them back and forth. He wasn’t giving her a reprieve as he finally placed his mouth on her, his tongue flicking against her clit before sucking on it. Éowyn cried out again, her heels digging into his back and her breath coming out in streams. Sex, while enjoyable before, had never felt like this, never been this intense, but she couldn’t quite maintain that thought as he continued kissing, licking, and sucking on her.

Her orgasm washed over her like a tidal wave, his name bursting from her lips as she reached that peak. She clenched around him, arms, legs, and everything, in an attempt to hold on. Her body went limp as her orgasm passed, her heart slamming against her chest as she inhaled huge gasps of air. She felt Sebastian remove his fingers and lay his head on her stomach and reached down to stroke his hair. He had completely undone her and she wanted to return the favor, she just needed a minute.

“Holy fuck,” she whispered as her heart started to beat at a more normal rhythm.

She heard Sebastian chuckle and tugged on his hair lightly. Taking the hint, he crawled up her body, settling between her legs before kissing her. She tasted herself on his lips, her tongue darting out to lick her juices off him. When she felt him start to move, the tip of his erection brushing against her pussy, she placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from moving more.

He lifted his head, and she caught the quick flash of confusion before he acquiesced. Leaning back, he started to crawl off her when she moved quickly, forcing him to sit up so that he was reclining against the back of the couch. She smiled wickedly as she crawled onto his lap, straddling him so that his cock was trapped between them. She rocked her hips slowly in imitation of the act and her smile grew wider at the moan that came from him.

“See, two can play at this game,” she repeated back to him as she kissed him, continuing to rock her hips against him. “Now hold still.” His hands came to her hips, fingers digging into her skin. The tips of her breasts, still sensitive from all he had done to her, brushed against his chest, causing a shiver to run up and down her spine. Despite her desire to give him the same sweet torture he had given her, she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to drag it out, for she was already starting to feel her body heat up again. A game for another time, she thought, making a mental note for the future.

Her hand slid down his chest, a thumb brushing over his nipple as she moved it down. Sebastian’s head fell back against the couch and she watched, fascinated as the muscles in his throat convulsed as he breathed heavily. His hands gripped her hips even harder, likely leaving bruises, when she wrapped her hand around him again. She gave him a few pumps before she moved her fingers to herself, swiping up some of the juices left from her orgasm and coated her fingers in them. A shudder went through her as she unintentionally brushed against her clit but she pushed forward, wrapping her now slick fingers around his cock again.

Biting her lip, she held back a groan as she watched him try to control himself while she worked her hand up and down his cock. When he started to thrust into her hand, she stopped moving and placed her other hand on his chest and waited. His head snapped up from the couch, the pupils of his blue eyes blown wide, white hot desire flashing from them. He started to sit up but she pushed him back against the couch.

“I said hold still. Or do you want me to stop?” She gave him a light squeeze, rubbing her thumb over the tip of his cock and smiled as his head dropped back against the couch again, groaning heavily. “Good boy,” she said, leaning forward to lick a line up his bared throat. After weeks of pent up hormones and very little chance for relief, she was going to make the most of this. Even if what she was doing to him was just as much torture for her as it was for him.

He kneaded her ass, hands sliding under her so that his fingers barely brushed against her wet pussy, but she allowed it, for it felt too damned good to make him stop. She continued stroking him, alternating between a slow torture and a quicker pump, all the while nibbling on his throat. When she felt his body start to clench, readying itself, she stopped again and waited. When he came she wanted him inside her. Sebastian lifted his head again, watching her as she removed her hand and slowly licked her fingers clean. He started to sit up again but she pushed him back down, leaning over to kiss him, letting him taste her on her tongue. His hands roamed up her body, moving to her breasts that were heavy with desire. Éowyn groaned into his mouth as he rubbed his thumbs against her nipples and arched into his hands. Maker’s balls, he made her feel so good.

Reluctantly, she pushed back. Sebastian sat up with her, his hands sliding back down her spine, fingers coming back down to grip her hips. Éowyn stared at him, wonder filling her at the way he looked at her. The unspoken love she felt for him filled her and she couldn’t prolong this anymore.

“I want you in me, Sebastian. Do you want that?”

“Oh, Maker, fuck yes.”

Éowyn smiled as she rose up on her knees slightly. With one hand on his shoulder, she grasped his cock with the other and guided him into her. She slowly sank onto him, taking in each centimeter with a held breath. When she finally had him fully sheathed, she just sat there for a moment, eyes closed as she revelled in the feeling of him within her. He was hard as iron and giving off heat like the sun.

She placed both hands on his shoulders now and started to move slowly, rising up and then sliding back down onto him. Sebastian used his hands to guide her hips, either to keep her in place or to urge her to move faster or both she didn’t know and didn’t care. All she cared about at that moment was the feel of him within her and the look on his face when she clenched around him. He groaned when she did it the first time and she watched, fascinated, as his eyes rolled into the back of his head when she did it a second time.

Interesting.

Éowyn increased her pace, rocking and grinding against him. She arched back, hands going into her hair as she rode him, before sliding them down her body to touch her breasts. They felt heavy in her hands as she squeezed them and pinched her nipples. He thrust up into her, grunting with each one. She let one of her hands slide down her body, touching herself where they joined while she still squeezed and pinched at her breast. She could feel her orgasm building again, burning from inside her.

Her pace started to grow erratic as she lost herself in the pleasure they gave each other. She faintly heard Sebastian growl her name and she found herself on her back, Sebastian taking over the lead and pounding into her. The sudden change in position made her cry out as she clenched around him tighter than before. He buried his head in her neck as he set a frantic pace that she could barely keep up with. Stars burst behind her closed eyes as she peaked again, Sebastian quickly following after a couple more hard thrusts.

Éowyn held him close as she felt him spill into her, his warm seed filling her, and she tried to catch her breath. Sex with Sebastian had turned out to be an amazing act, one she wouldn’t mind repeating.

The room went quiet after they reached completion, the patter of rain against the windows the only sound. As the sweat cooled on their skin, Éowyn shivered and burrowed herself into him. Sebastian kissed the crook of her neck, moving up her throat to finally kiss her lips. He rested his forehead on her, their breath mingling. A strange calm and peace came over her as they lay there, lazy in their post-coital haze.

When his weight became too much for her, she pushed him up and off her. Sliding off the couch, she prayed that her legs would work as she walked over to the sink and ran a washcloth under tepid water. After she had cleaned herself off, she tossed another cloth to Sebastian so he could do the same. On slightly unsteady legs, she made her way back to him, snagging the blanket that lay on the back of the couch. Sebastian laid back on the couch as she sat down and pulled her to him so that she lay on top of him, her head resting against his chest. She barely felt him draw the blanket over them as she listened to the steady beat of his heart.

“Wow.”

The word came out of her unbidden and it seemed insufficient for what just happened but it was the only one that her brain could manage at the moment. It had been a small miracle that she had been able to get off the couch so the could clean themselves up.

“You could say that again,” he said, his voice rumbled through his chest as he reached up to stroke her hair. The feel of his fingers against her scalp was soothing, and in combination with the sound of the rain outside, Éowyn found herself becoming drowsy. Before she fell completely into slumber she distantly heard him say something, but it was lost as sleep pulled her under.

~~~

A field of flowers stretched out before her. She recognized the flowers of her youth: elfroot, blood lotus, embrium, and more. A gentle wind blew through them, making the field look like a sea with waves flowing through it. Éowyn stood in the middle of it, felt the rare warmth of a Ferelden sun on her face. She closed her eyes and tilted her face up to it, enjoying the warmth as the light breeze tugged on her hair. The air smelled like spring and hope and with the tinkle of Bethany’s laughter around her, she could believe it.

“Are you happy, Sister? You look happy.”

Éowyn opened her eyes to see Bethany sitting not that far away from her, a pile of flowers sitting in her lap as she bound them with ribbon. Several bouquets sat next to her in a basket, waiting to be sold at market.

“Of course I’m happy, why wouldn’t I be? It’s a beautiful day.”

“I don’t think it’s the day that has you smiling. Not like that anyway.”

Éowyn felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Bethany had always been too perceptive for her own good.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not your usual grumpy self, that’s all.”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?”

Bethany cocked her head to the side, as if she were contemplating the question. “Perhaps. You’re much nicer when you aren’t grumpy, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not always grumpy.”

“True. You weren’t before Ostagar, before the war. Ever since though, grumpy has pretty much been your default state. You seem to like being grumpy. Or at least you’ve never allowed yourself to be happy. Too busy trying to save the world and not paying attention to what’s in front of you.”

“If I’m grumpy it’s because there are too many assholes in the world.”

“But you let them get to you. You let the darkness in, give it a place to grow. You bring it with you everywhere. It’s like a tiny dark seed that’s growing in you; the roots have dug deep. I don’t see how you’re ever going to be free of it if you don’t fight it.”

“Bethany-.”

“Especially when you keep thinking that everything is your fault.”

Éowyn had started to reach for her sister but was stopped cold at her words. An icy sweat covered her skin as clouds grew in the sky above them, blotting out the sun.

Bethany stood up, the flowers falling off her, turning black and decayed as they fell and hit the ground. Éowyn looked around and saw the perfect spring day fall to darkness. Smoke rose on the horizon as the ground underneath them turned fallow. The earth looked as if it had been trampled by a hoard of demons, charred by fire and blood. Clouds whirled above them and turned a black, sickly green.

Panic gripped her throat as the scene spun and she found herself in Ostagar. She looked down, saw the rifle in her hands, knuckles white from how tightly she gripped it. She heard her commander shouting, calling for a retreat, but she was frozen in place and unable to move. Screams of the dying echoed around her and in her head. Looking to her right she saw a soldier, gripping the place where the lower part of his leg used to be, blood oozing through his fingers. To her left were more bodies, some moving, some not.

Rain poured from the sky, but when she looked down at her hands, it wasn’t water that covered them, but blood. Thunder that wasn’t thunder rolled throughout the battlefield, the ground exploding as the shells landed around her. Éowyn was blown back by the explosion, flying through the air until she slammed into a building. Her helmet took the brunt of the force, but her head still rung and her vision swam before her.

Shaking her head to try to clear her vision, she heard a familiar voice shout to her. As her eyes were finally able to focus, she saw Carver race across the field toward her, dodging bullets and mortar fire. Her head pounded as she tried to stand, but her legs were too weak and she stumbled forward, landing face down in the mud. She pushed herself up, gasping for air just as Carver reached her. He hooked an arm under her and hauled her up. He was saying something but the ringing in her ears was too loud for her to understand. Carver took her weight on him and dragged her away from the front line.

Pain stretched along her stomach, spiking with each step they took. Éowyn gripped her side with her hand, attempting to hold it and everything else in. She could feel blood seeping through her fingers and knew that she needed to get to a medic soon before she bled out. Being gut shot was a slow, painful death.

She heard the mortar coming toward them just seconds before it landed behind them. Éowyn found herself flying through the air again, landing hard and rolling across the ground. Pain lanced through her as she pushed herself up to her feet, her legs unsteady beneath her. Wiping the mud and blood from her face, she looked frantically around her for Carver. Smoke filled the air and her lungs as she stumbled forward, trying to discern where he had been thrown by the blast. It couldn’t have been far.

Something popped behind her, the noise hissing through the air. She smelled the mustard gas and grappled for her mask, getting it on just as the yellow clouds began to seep through the smoke. Between the mustard gas and the regular smoke it was difficult to see much less walk. She walked for what seemed like hours, her hand clutching her gut. Time had no meaning here. She felt like she had been shifted to another dimension where all that existed was pain and blood and death.

She screamed out Carver’s name, even though she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her through the gas mask. There was a sudden break in the smoke as a gust of wind blew through and she saw a body lying crumpled on the ground not ten feet from her, familiar black hair curling out from beneath the helmet.

Forgetting her own pain, Éowyn ran forward, dropping to her knees before the body. Reaching down she turned it over, but it wasn’t Carver laying before her. It was Bethany. Chemical burns from the gas pocked her sister’s face and her hands were curled into fists from where fire had touched her. Éowyn tore off her mask, screaming as she cradled her sister in her arms.

“No, no, Maker, no.”

Tears mixed with the blood and mud that streaked her face. This couldn’t be happening. It _shouldn’t_ be happening. Bethany was supposed to be safe back in Lothering, far away from the front. The war was never supposed to touch her. Éowyn shook her, screaming at her to stay awake, to stay with her, but Bethany’s eyes were glassy with death. The spark that gave her life gone.

Hands started to grab her, tried to pull her away. Éowyn fought against them, wanting to stay with her sister. It should have been her, not Bethany. It should have been her.

The hands were more insistent now, and she could hear someone shouting her name. She pulled against them, clinging to her sister, wishing nothing more than to be able to switch places with her, but whoever was pulling at her was stronger and wrapped their arms around her. Éowyn screamed as she cried out Bethany’s name, pain blasting through her like a bullet.

“Éowyn, shhh. It’s okay. Come back. Come back to me now.”

Through the haze of the nightmare she heard his voice. Even as it’s claws tried to take her under again, Sebastian held her close, murmuring soft words in a language she didn’t understand to her. Éowyn clung to him like she was drowning. And perhaps she was. The nightmares had gotten worse over the past few months, intensifying especially in the last week. Nothing had been able to drown them out. They just kept coming, relentless, until she feared going to bed.

Tears poured from her as he gathered her into his lap, cradling her head against his chest. It was the sound of his heartbeat more than anything else that began to calm her. It was steady, if a bit fast, and gave her an anchor, something to hold on to.

They sat like that for what seemed like hours. Sebastian just held her, murmuring occasionally into her hair when the tears started up again, lightly stroking her back even as he held her. Éowyn squeezed her eyes shut tight and turned her face into his chest, inhaling the strong scent of him. No one had ever been there before to pull her out of a nightmare, not since Bethany had passed. Her sister had sat with her and held her when the tears came, offering her a solace that she didn’t get from anyone else. Carver had his own demons to fight and wasn’t capable of taking hers on as well. And Leandra, well, she was even more poorly equipped to help her shell shocked daughter.

When the storm of emotions had finally calmed, Éowyn lifted her head. She felt gross and full of snot but he looked at her with such care, as if she was the most beautiful thing in the world. He brushed her hair off her face, wiping the tears from her face.

“Can I have some water?”

“Of course,” he said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders before walking over to the sink. Éowyn pulled the blanket tighter around her, fighting the chill that suddenly came over her. She was always so cold after the nightmares and she wished desperately for a hot shower. It was one of the few things that had helped her push back the darkness.

Sebastian sat next to her on the couch, handing her the cup. Éowyn took it with both hands and lifted it slowly to her lips. He sat next to her and put an arm around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly.

Éowyn let out a slow breath and nodded, leaning into him. She threaded her fingers through his, taking solace in his presence.

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“For all of this. For falling apart on you like that. For not holding myself together better.”

Sebastian was silent for several moments, his chin resting on the top of her head. Éowyn both desperately wanted to know what he was thinking and at the same time dreaded it. This… weakness, it was her darkest shame. She should be stronger than this.

“That’s an incredibly stupid thing to say, you know?”

Éowyn pushed back, her jaw dropped in shock. Of all the things she had thought he would say, that was the last thing she had expected.

“Excuse me?”

He took the glass from her, setting it on the floor before taking her hands in his, keeping her from moving away further. “Éowyn, I can’t know what being in the war was like; I was nowhere near it. But I heard the stories from the refugees who sought solace at the Chantry. There weren’t many, true, but enough to know that the war had changed them irrevocably. Just as it did you. I can’t imagine the horrors you saw and experienced, but I can be here to help you through them. I want to be here for you. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone.”

Éowyn looked down at their joined hands, biting her lip. She wasn’t sure how to respond to his words so she decided to say nothing at all.

“I sat with the refugees, listened to their stories, and I’d like to do the same for you. You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable, but I’m here if you need me. I won’t be going anywhere.”

She looked up from their hands to look at him, taking in his calm gaze. She expected to see pity there but there was none; just an earnest wanting to help her, however he could.

“I’m not a good person, Sebastian. No, wait, hear me out,” she said hurriedly when he opened his mouth. She took a deep breath, not completely sure about sharing this with him, but he deserved to know at least something about her past.

“I did horrible things in the war. I did what was needed to be done to keep me and my squad alive. We fought against an enemy with no face. They brought such horrors to Ferelden that the country will never be the same. Not the land, not the people. Especially those who stayed.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “I did what needed to be done to stop them from taking over the whole country, we all did. And in the end we failed. Ferelden burned with every inch they gained. It wasn’t just the bullets and the bombs; the gas they used, it put a blight on everything it touched. I fought against that horror to keep my family safe and I failed.”

Sebastian remained silent as she talked. The blanket slipped from her shoulder at one point and he tugged it back up without a word. She talked, haltingly, and he listened.

“Carver and I, we fought in the trenches of Ostagar, throwing everything we could back at the enemy. The city had already been lost, but we fought with everything we had to keep the enemy from going further. It’s where I got this,” she said, gesturing to the shrapnel wound on her stomach, her voice close to a whisper. “I nearly died in the trenches that day. Would have if Carver hadn’t dragged me out. But many others, dozens, hundreds of people, good men and women died on those fields, in the trenches. We lost Ferelden that day, we just didn’t realize it.”

“But you did stop it. You defeated them in Denerim.”

Éowyn looked at him, tears pooling in her eyes again. “No, I ran away, long before that. After I was injured, we went back to Lothering, thinking we’d be safe, but the enemy was close on our heels. They attacked the town, filling it with that fucking gas. Civilians, children, unable to evacuate because everyone had counted on us to win Ostagar, they died. We brought the war with us and they died. We tried to run, but there were too many of them.”

“I know this is easy for me to say, but it’s not your fault Éowyn. What happened at Ostagar, in Lothering, it’s not your fault.”

Éowyn pulled her hands back, wrapping her arms around herself. “How can you say that? I didn’t move fast enough and was injured. Because I was injured we couldn’t get to Lothering in time to evacuate people. Lines were down, they had sabotaged them. Runners were killed, their horses shot as they raced from the battlefield.” Her lungs tightened as the memories came back, her hands trembling as she saw in her mind’s eye the shells dropping on Lothering, the gas spreading death through the streets. “So many people I knew died in that attack, but many more were injured, walking wounded, my sister Bethany among them. She had the sweetest soul out of all of us. She deserved better than what this life gave her.”

“So do you.”

“No, I don’t. I should have died there.” A shudder ran through her. “I know a part of me did. A part I can never get back. I’m broken Sebastian, how can you want a broken woman?”

“Éowyn Hawke, you are not broken. Bruised perhaps, a little rough around the edges for sure, but not broken. You are a survivor.”

“I see ghosts. That’s not the mark of a healthy person.”

“It’s the mark of a survivor. You went through something no person should ever have to, but you fight. To this day you fight. With each person you help in Kirkwall, you continue to fight,” he paused, taking her face in his hands. “You give so much of yourself, _mo chridhe,_ too much perhaps. Maybe it’s time for you to take something for yourself.”

“Sebastian-.”

“I’m willing to give you whatever you need, whatever you’re willing to take.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“That’s for me to find out, don’t you think?” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. His lips grazed down her cheek to place another kiss on her lips. “I wish I could fix it all for you, I wish I could take those nightmares away. I know I can’t, but I can be there for you after,” he whispered, kissing her again. “If you let me.”

Éowyn looked up at him, seeing the earnest desire in his face, a desire reflecting his words, and she knew that he meant it. She felt her heart swell. Taking his face in her hands, she brought him down to her, kissing him with everything she felt. She pulled him down with her so that they lay flat on the couch again. She kissed his face, his jaw, his lips, her fingers lightly trailing up and down his back, drawing invisible circles across his skin. Opening her legs, she pulled him in, wanting the feel of his solid weight on her.

Her head fell back as he kissed down her neck, sliding his hands up her body to clasp her hands, their fingers meshing together. A soft moan escaped her as they moved together softly, with none of the flash and frenetic energy from their first time. This was warmth and light and love.

She arched into him as she felt him grow hard against her. Éowyn tilted her hips and wrapped a leg around his waist. Sebastian lifted his head, looking down at her with a mix of worry and adoration.

“Are you sure, _mo chridhe_?”

“Yes, I’m sure Sebastian. Please, make love to me.”

He kissed her again as he slid into her warmth. Éowyn gave a soft cry as they began to move, closing her eyes and seeing a kaleidoscope of colors flash behind her lids. She heard him whisper words of love to her inbetween kisses and his movement within her. Her body flushed with heat and need. He set a slow but steady pace for them, slowly fanning the flames of desire. She had never wanted another man like the way she wanted him and knew that she wouldn’t want another the same way every again.

Her breath hitched as he began to increase the pace, nearly sliding all the way out of her before fully sheathing himself within her again. He let go of one of her hands and caressed her skin downward until he reached where the joined and found her clit. He drew light circles around it as he moved within her, kissing her all the while. The room was quiet except for the sounds of their breathing and the moans they brought out from each other. Her orgasm burst over her, her entire body singing with it as he found his own completion shortly after.

The held each other close as their breathing evened out, neither wanting to move. Éowyn basked in the aftershocks of her orgasm. That he could elicit such a reaction, such emotions from her was a small miracle in her mind.

Eventually Sebastian pushed himself up enough so that he wasn’t putting all of his weight on her. He combed his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her neck as he leaned down for another kiss. When he lifted his head, she saw a bemused smile on his face.

“What is it?”

“When I imagined us making love for the first time, the last place I imagined it happening was in your office on this poor excuse for a couch.”

Éowyn laughed. “You know, I was going to get rid of it. It is rather uncomfortable, despite what my brother says, but it definitely served a purpose tonight. I’m thinking of having it preserved for posterity’s sake. Think the Chantry will allow it into their museum?”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m pretty sure that the Grand Cleric wouldn’t see it the same way we do. Besides, I kind of like it where it is. Could come useful in the future.”

“I wouldn’t mind a bed. More room for one, less lumps too.”

“I think that can be arranged,” he said, dropping a kiss onto her nose before sitting up. She watched him with lazy eyes as he walked across the room to the sink to grab another washcloth. She bit her lip as she took in his whole body. He was quite a sight indeed.

He had just returned to her when she heard someone jiggle the doorknob to her office door. Éowyn froze at the sound, frantically thinking of who could possibly come to her door this late at night. She scrambled for her underwear and clothes, feeling like a teenager being caught by her parents. It turned out to be much worse than being caught by a parent.

“Éowyn, I know you’re in there, open the fucking door. I’m wet and tired and pissed off and need to have some words with you.”

Her mouth gaped open, speechless for several seconds, before she shimmied into her pants without bothering with her underwear. She knocked over the glass of water from earlier, the water running over the floor. Looking over at Sebastian, she saw that he only had his boxers on.

“Get dressed, dammit. Before he picks the lock and comes in.”

“I would my dear, but my clothes are scattered about the room. You weren’t exactly patient with them.”

Growling, she marched over to the pile where his shirt had fallen and threw it at him before she hastily buttoned up her shirt. The knocking continued, louder this time, the voice even more annoyed by the delay.

“Who is it that’s got you in such a tizzy?” he asked as he slowly drew on his shirt. His pants were on, thank the Maker, but left half undone.

“It’s my brother, you idiot. Now button up your pants.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 06/21/17: This was a hard chapter to write, for many reasons, which is part of the reason why it took me so long to get it done. Real life has been quite a shit show career wise, but I'm hoping that now I've gotten myself on a different track, it will get better. If you enjoyed this chapter please let me know. Thanks so much for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, the language gets a bit salty in the first half. If you've played through with Carver you probably won't be surprised by it much. Once he leaves things get a bit spicey. SOMEONE couldn’t keep his hands to himself.

The pounding on the door was getting louder and more insistent and Éowyn thanked Andraste that it was only offices on her floor though she knew that there were some apartments on the floor above. As it was, the floors and walls were pretty thin, so if Carver didn’t shut up soon there would be complaints if not vague threats of violence. Some of which would be coming from her if he didn’t stop soon. Only she wouldn’t be so vague about it.

The buttons to her blouse weren’t cooperating with her as she stomped over to the door, managing only to get a couple buttoned on her way. Carver was still yelling at her to open the door when she finally reached it. Flipping the locks she opened the door but only a couple of inches so that he could just barely see her face.

“I’m sorry. Office hours are between 9am and 5pm. If you come back in the morning, Detective Hawke can assist you at that time.”

“Cute. Stop fucking around Éowyn and open the door.” Carver shoved against the door but she held fast.

“Wow, that’s rude. You kiss Mother with that mouth?”

Rather than respond, Carver just shoved at the door again, harder this time.

“Andraste’s ass, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Carver, who was indeed wet and just as pissed off as he said, shoved at the door a third time to no effect as Éowyn had wedged her foot against it. In retrospect a poor decision as she was not only not wearing any shoes but she had used her still healing foot to do so. A twinge of pain zinged up her leg but she held her position. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed at being caught in a somewhat compromised situation, it was more that it was none of her brother’s damn business and he would try to make it his business. She had never answered to him before and she wasn’t about to start now.

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Seriously? Open the fucking door and I’ll tell you.”

Éowyn sniffed, her nose scrunching up in distaste. “You stink. What did you do? Roll in a pig shit before coming here?”

“Hilarious. Open the damned door.”

He didn’t wait for her to move and shoved against the door a final time. Unable to fight against his strength and his temper, Éowyn was forced back, stumbling slightly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sebastian start forward, a scowl on his face but she warded him back with her hand.

“Andraste’s ass I forgot just how much of a dick you were.”

“If you’d had Mother calling you everyday for the last week complaining about your sibling, you’d be in a bad mood too.” Water pooled on the floor where he stood, his warden casual uniform soaked through. Éowyn hadn’t seen him this disheveled in years. Carver had always been fastidious so to see him like this was both alarming and fucking hilarious.

“Oh, that’s rich. You get pissed because of a few phone calls? Try living in the same fucking city as her. You. Dick.”

“ _I’m_ a dick? She’s called me everyday, bitching about you and-.”

Carver stopped mid-sentence, the piss drained out of him when he saw Sebastian standing behind her. His mouth gaped open and was seemingly struck speechless. It would have been funny if they hadn’t just been yelling at each other. Éowyn glanced over her shoulder, seeing that yes, Sebastian had managed to get his pants on all the way but his shirt was left open and to her slight horror she could see some of the love bites she had left on him. She knew for damn sure that he had left some of his own on her. Well, Carver was just going to have to deal with it. With all of it.

“Oh, yes. I suppose you haven’t been introduced. Formally anyway. Sebastian, this is my idiot brother Carver Hawke. Carver, this is Sebastian Vael.”

“A pleasure to meet you Warden Hawke.”

“Maker’s breath, don’t call him that Sebastian, his head’s already too far up his ass as it is,” Éowyn paused, looking at Carver again. “Something the matter, brother dear?” she said sweetly. It took an enormous amount of restraint not to laugh at the expression on his face. He looked like he was having either an aneurysm or a fish gasping for air. Maybe both. When his gaping lasted for over a minute, Éowyn couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Maker’s balls, it wasn’t like he didn’t know she’d had sex. He’d all but walked in on her and one of the medics in the act days before Ostagar.

“This,” Carver paused, swallowing heavily before he continued. “This is what you’ve been doing while ignoring Mother?”

“First, it’s rude not to acknowledge a greeting. Second, it’s none of your business what I do with my life. And third, I haven’t seen or heard from Mother in over a week. It’s not my fault she’s calling you. You don’t have to answer, you know.”

“I do when she calls my commander because I’m not taking her calls and then my commander barges into the barracks, ordering me to call my mother! Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is in front of the other wardens?” he asked, completely ignoring her first two points and latching on to the last.

“See, here’s the thing Carver, I _do not care_. You made the choice to leave and therefore forfeited any say in what I do or don’t do. Not that you had any say before then anyway.”

“Éowyn…” Carver sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. Whether in frustration or in attempt to wipe his memory of what he walked in on was up for grabs. “Do you at least know who shot up the house?”

“It was that asshole Samson. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Did you-?”

“No, Carver, I didn’t kill him.”

“I hope you don’t come to regret that.”

“I’m quite certain that Knight Commander Meredith has no intentions of him leaving the Gallows anytime soon,” said Sebastian as he took a step forward. Éowyn spun around, shock spread across her face.

“He’s in the Gallows? How did the Templars get their hands on him? He’s not a member of their order anymore.”

“I don’t think the Knight Commander cared much about that, and from what I hear, Guard Captain Vallen was disinclined to object.”

“Disinclined to-.” Éowyn growled, making a mental note to speak with Aveline sooner rather than later. While she definitely wanted Samson to rot behind bars, she wouldn’t have wished the Gallows on anyone. That place was a black pit and one heard rumors about the horrors that happened within. How any decent person could be associated with that place was beyond her.

“You’re awfully well informed for someone who just got out of the hospital.”

“Uncle Gideon told me.”

“Ah, I see,” she said, slightly fuming that no one had bothered to tell her. She was the one who was shot at, whose house was riddled with bullets and who was essentially homeless until it was fixed. Pursing her lips, she turned back to Carver. “Well, you’ve yelled at me, had your words, and have seen for yourself that I’m not dead or dying, is there anything else, or are you going back to your sainted wardens?”

“Éowyn, we’ve-,”

“Yes, we’ve been through this. You couldn’t stay here after the thing with the statue, so you left.” Éowyn tried not to be bitter, but it was hard. After they had built up the agency she had thought that they were good, that whatever they came up against they would succeed. But then it was that one damned case with the statue. Éowyn didn’t blame Varric for what happened. Hell, he had even more of a right to be pissed at his brother than she or Carver did, but for Carver it had apparently been the last straw. Theirs had always been a contentious one but she would have never thought he would just quit. She wasn’t sure she was a big enough person to forgive that.

“It’s not as simple as that.”

“It never is, is it?” she said sadly. Silence fell in the room like a dirty shroud. She hated that they had this contentious relationship. They had always butted heads but they had also been there for each other. It was a known thing that she wouldn’t have survived Ostagar without him at her side. Bethany had called him a hero for that. And though she had never told him as much, Éowyn did too.

There she was again with her crappy way with words and emotions.

“Is there anything else you’d like to try and lecture me about? Or can I go home?”

Carver flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. Was he? Was he _embarrassed?_

“She may have also gone on and on about you being engaged or some such bullshit.” He darted his eyes between her and Sebastian before settling back on her again, his cheeks red.

Éowyn fought the urge to groan. That one little lie was going to haunt her for the rest of her days. And considering the situation Carver had found them in, he probably wouldn’t believe her denial, bullshit or not. Behind her she heard Sebastian chuckle and had to fight an even greater urge to smack him. He wasn’t helping.

“You’re probably not going to believe me, but it was a little lie that got out of hand. It’s too complicated to explain it and I’m disinclined to do so right now.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you, but as you’ve said _very_ loudly and clearly, what you do isn’t my business. In fact, the less I know of,” he waved his hand in their general direction, “this, the better off I am.”

“Well then, I guess you should go.”

“Yeah, I should.” Carver sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Not looking forward to going back to Mother’s. That prick Quentin’s there. I hate that guy.”

“Finally! Someone else who hates him,” Éowyn nearly shouted. Both men looked at her, startled by her outburst. “What? The guy’s a creep and there’s something off about him. I can’t stand being in the same room with him.”

“No disagreements here. What does she see in him, anyway?”

“You mean something other than having him at her beck and call? Someone who will go with her to all those fancy parties she thinks are so important. And then there’s the house.”

“But the house is hers.”

“Well, yes, and she has the inheritance from her parents for upkeep but that woman has never liked being alone and it’s a big house.”

“I suppose you’re right about that,” Carver paused, his brow creasing as he gave her a hard look as if a light had just been flipped on. “Wait, if your house is all torn to shit, if you’re not staying with her, where are you staying? Not here in the office I hope?”

“Here? Fuck no. I’m-.”

“She’s with me for the time being,” Sebastian interrupted, stepping up behind her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “My townhome has more than enough room. You’re welcome to stay there until you return to Weisshaupt.”

The corner of Éowyn’s mouth twitched as Carver appeared to have another stroke at Sebastian’s words. Seeing him speechless was totally worth letting Sebastian lie about her living situation. She watched, amused as hell, as Carver slowly shifted his brain back into gear.

“Ah, no, thanks. I think I’ll see if I can bunk at Isabela’s.”

Éowyn didn’t even bother to hide her smirk now. “Oh Carver, I think we both know that you will always be welcomed with open arms at Isabela’s. Both her and Fenris would be more than thrilled to have you.”

Carver scowled at her, clearly understanding her double meaning. “I’ll stay out of your personal dealings if you stay out of mine.”

“You know I don’t judge, Carver. In fact, I wholeheartedly approve. You’re much easier to deal with when you get laid.”

Carver’s face flushed red as he clenched his jaw. Éowyn gave him a gamine smile, trying not to laugh. Damn but he was easy to rile up. Running a hand through his hair her shot her a glare but it lacked the heat of his normally twitchy temper.

“Brat.”

“Dick.”

“You do realize that your arrangements do nothing to dispel the engagement rumors, right?”

“You know,” Éowyn mused, reaching up to touch Sebastian’s hand. “I’m finding more and more that I’m disinclined to care what other people think.”

Carver snorted. “Sure, like you’ve ever cared about what other people think.”

“Only a select few.”

A silence fell in the room between them, not awkward, but not entirely easy either. Carver’s eyes flicked over to her board, quickly taking it in. He hesitated briefly before speaking again. “Do you want any help with that?”

Éowyn looked over at the board, mulling it over. His offer of help was mildly surprising considering his mood when he had arrived. Sebastian’s thumbs ran over the base of her neck, massaging the muscles there. She could feel his breath on her ear and had to suppress a shudder. Mentally shaking herself, she forced her hormones down. “Perhaps. Couldn’t hurt to have a fresh pair of eyes. Unless you need to run back to Weisshaupt.”

“I have a couple of days. More than enough time to solve your case for you.”

“Oh fuck you, Carver.”

“Hey, do you want my help or not?”

“I just said as much, didn’t I? Alright then. Back here tomorrow, say around nine?”

“Ah, let’s make it after noon. I’ll need to stop by Mother’s in the morning and let her know you’re not dead and who knows how long that will take. Unless you’re willing to call her.”

“Oh, fuck no. If she wanted to know what’s going on with me she knows my number. I’ll let you have the pleasure of informing her.”

“You’re all heart.”

“She likes you better anyway, I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Éowyn-.”

“I’m not complaining, Carver, nor do I blame you. It is what it is.” She gave him a soft smile. “Go. Say hi to Isabela and Fenris for me.”

Carver hesitated for a second, looking over her shoulder at Sebastian. Éowyn tensed, wondering what idiotic thing he was going to say that would start another argument. It wasn’t really a question of if, it was more of when.

“I hope you deserve her,” he said to Sebastian before walking out the door, shutting it firmly behind him. Éowyn stared at the closed door, not sure what to think about what her brother just said.

“Well that was fucking weird.”

“You two do seem to have a unique relationship.”

Éowyn snorted as she turned to him. “You have no idea. He’s my brother and I love him but there are times when I’d like to flush his head in a toilet.”

Sebastian coughed back a laugh. “That’s… quite an image.”

“You should see it from my perspective.” She eyed him carefully. “It’s complicated.”

“Family always is,” he paused, running his hand up her arm and fiddled with the collar of her shirt. “I hope so to, you know.”

Éowyn looked up at him, her brow crinkling.

“What?”

“Deserve you. I hope that I do because, well-.”

Éowyn leaned forward, placing a finger on his lips. “Don’t say it.”

Sebastian reached up and clasped her hand, pulling it to his chest as his other hand went up to cup her face. He gazed upon her with such emotion that it shook Éowyn. No one had ever looked at her like that before. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. He must have sensed her unease because he didn’t push the matter, settling for kissing her instead. His lips moved softly against hers like a promise, a promise of more to come.

When he pulled back there was a smile on his face and a twinkle she didn’t quite recognize.

“Shall we go then?”

It took Éowyn a moment to realize what he meant, her brain slightly fogged by his kiss, but she quickly remembered that he had told Carver that she was staying with him.

“About that. That was a tad presumptuous of you, thinking that I’ll go home with you. And Carver’s going to find out within five minutes of arriving at Isabela’s that I’ve been staying with them while the house is getting fixed. What’s the deal Vael?”

“Deal? No deal. I just want some more time with you.”

Éowyn arched an eyebrow. “Is that so? I don’t even have a toothbrush.”

Sebastian smirked. “For what I have in mind, you won’t be needing much at all.”

“I don’t know. The toothbrush is one of the best inventions ever. Right up there with antibiotics and coffee. Morning breath is a hazard to all with a sense of smell.”

“I’m sure I can scrounge something up for you,” he paused. “I don’t want you to feel obligated, Éowyn. If you would rather stay here, even though I strongly advise against it, I won’t stand in your way.”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you have a bathtub and how big it is.”

“Well, yes, I do have one. I don’t use it much though.”

Éowyn’s eyes widened in somewhat feigned shock. She pressed her hand to her chest as if she was trying to hold in her dismay. “You don’t use it? What’s the point in having a bathtub if you don’t use it? That’s just wasteful.”

“I never had a use for it,” he shrugged.

“Well that settles it. I’ll come home with you and show you the wonders of a good bath. A good soak alone is an amazing thing,” she paused, her smile turning devilish. “A shared one however, that can be divine.”

Sebastian gave her a wide grin. “Well, if you put it that way I will be a most earnest pupil.” He pulled her close again, sliding his hands around her waist. Dipping his head he captured her lips, kissing her deeply. His hands roamed further down, smoothing over the fabric of her slacks to grab her ass. Éowyn felt him smile against her lips, a chuckle quickly following. She pulled back, quirking an eyebrow.

“Something funny?”

“No, not really. It’s just that you seem to be missing some undergarments.”

Éowyn snorted. “With Carver banging on the door haste was more important than completeness. Also,” she paused, leaning up so that her lips were against his ear. Whispering, she said, “It’s not only my knickers that are missing.”

Sebastian groaned heavily. She felt his heart speed up beneath her fingers. It delighted her to no end that she could elicit such a response from him with just a few words. Considering what he was able to do to her with just a look it only seemed fair.

“We should go. I wouldn’t want to miss out on my bath lesson. I am an excellent pupil, most eager to apply my learning..”

Éowyn had to suppress her laughter as she followed him out of the office and to his car. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight.

~~~

Éowyn leaned back against Sebastian’s chest, letting the hot water soak into her bones. Even with as hot and muggy Kirkwall was, there was nothing like a hot bath to sooth the body and soul. It was the one thing that was missing from her house. While the shower did it’s job in warming her and chasing away the shadows of nightmares, it was a poor replacement for a good bath.

Sebastian combed his fingers through her wet hair, the tips massaging her scalp. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. As good as a well drawn bath was, sharing it with someone who knew how to find all her stress points made it even better.

“You do realize that this water is nearly scalding, right?”

“I think it’s perfect,” she nearly purred, eyes closed as she tried and failed not to imagine what it would be like to have access to a bath like this all the time. And to the man sitting behind her. She’d been through too much to look a gift horse in the mouth but she also knew that happiness could be fleeting, slipping through your fingers like water if you weren’t paying attention. A tiny thread of fear wiggled through her at the thought that she might lose him.

As if sensing the dark turn her thoughts were taking, Sebastian drew his hands down her scalp and ran them over her shoulders, his thumbs kneading the muscles of her neck. She felt his lips press against the crook of her neck and sighed.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Éowyn.”

Éowyn swirled the water in front of her with her fingers, suddenly embarrassed by the turn of her thoughts.

“I just want to bottle this moment. It’s a good memory to have for later to remind me that not everything is horrible.”

“You say that like you expect something horrible to happen,” he said as he placed another kiss on her shoulder, slightly lower than the first.

“Something horrible always does. But when you have good memories to hold on to, it makes those horrible times more palatable.”

“I suppose you’re right. It’s important to take the time to make those memories.” His lips moved further down her shoulder as his fingers skimmed down her sides, resting on her hips. She could feel his thumbs drawing small circles on her skin, causing her to shiver despite the water temperature.

“Sebastian Vael, what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, a smile on her lips.

“Making another happy memory?” he said as he kissed back up her neck, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hands moved from her hips, sliding against the skin of her thighs. With a gentle nudge, he parted her legs so that they straddled the outside of his. Slowly, so slowly, he drew his hands back up the insides of her thighs, just grazing but not touching her core. Those clever hands continued to move, reaching up to cup her breasts, his forefingers circling her nipples. Éowyn groaned at the contact and let her head fall back against his shoulder and her hands gripped the edge of the tub.

“Seems more like you’re wanting to make a happy ending.”

“Is there a difference?” he asked, his breath hot against her skin and she felt him harden against her ass. If she was to be truthful, she was surprised that it had taken him this long to make a move. She had honestly expected him to jump her as soon as they entered the house. But no, the man bided his time, waiting for the right moment and he had it now. All parts of her were exposed to him, readily within reach to be touched and teased.

“I, I suppose not,” she breathed, or tried to. It was difficult as his hands molded against her breasts, his fingers rolling her hardened nipples between them. Éowyn arched against his hands, a louder moan escaping from her. Turning her head, she sought out his lips. She reached up with one hand and dug it into his hair, pulling him closer. Heat bloomed within her when his tongue delved into her mouth. He continued his ministrations on one of her breasts while his other hand slid down her stomach. She felt his fingers dance along her skin, the tips grazing her sensitive inner thigh. When his fingers finally touched her clit, stroking it lightly, Éowyn’s hips involuntarily bucked against his hand. Splayed open as she was, she was at his complete mercy.

He dragged his lips away from hers, running them down her jawline until his lips were against her ear. “I’m finding that I’m quite enjoying taking a bath. They are much more stimulating that I thought they would be.”

“They,” she started, only to gasp as his fingers went from light strokes against her clit to tighter circles. “They’re supposed to be relaxing.”

“You don’t find this relaxing, _mo chridhe_?” he asked as he slid one finger into her, his thumb taking over for his fingers at her clit.

“Relaxing isn’t exactly the word I would use to describe this. Oh Maker, don’t stop.”

Sebastian chuckled, his voice taking a deeper timber. “I have no intentions of doing so. I find it quite enjoyable to give this pleasure to you. How long do you think you can last, though?” he asked as he added a finger, slowly pumping them in and out of her. His other hand continued to massage her breast, lightly pinching her nipple as he rolled it between his finger and thumb. Water sloshed against the edges of the tub as she moved against his hand, wanting more. She cried out again as he delved deeper, curling his fingers within her and finding that spot that made her toes curl.

“That’s it, _mo chridhe_ , climb for me.”

“You bastard, this isn’t fair.” Her breath was coming in streams now. “I can’t touch you.”

“Next time,” he said hotly against her ear as he drew his fingers out of her, causing her to whimper. His hands gripped her hips, raising her up so that she sat in his lap. She felt his cock brushing against her, it's hard length gliding between her thighs. His hand still gripped her hips as he leaned forward, lightly biting at the juncture of her neck. He laved his tongue over the spot as he made a couple of slow thrusts.

“Do you want me, Éowyn?”

Éowyn was panting so hard now she could hardly breathe. He had her so riled up that the only thing she could think about was having his cock inside her. She had never thought of herself as an insatiable woman in the sex department but having Sebastian’s arms around her changed all the rules.

“Yes, damn you.”

He lifted her up again so that she could feel the tip of his cock brush against her pussy. She gripped the edge of the tub with one hand while she used the other to guide him in.. Slowly he brought her down onto him, filling her inch by inch. A sigh escaped her when she was fully seated on him, revelling in the sensation of him inside her. She took a moment to savor that feeling before she began to move, meeting his slow thrusts from below. One of his hands reached around her and rubbed circles around her clit, touching her where they joined. More water splashed over the edge as they moved, the only other sounds being their heavy breathing and the combination of their moans as they drew pleasure out from each other.

Éowyn quickened her pace, wanting more of that friction. Sebastian’s hand tightened on her hip as he matched her stroke for stroke, his lips latched onto her neck. She felt herself coiling, the tension within her building with each thrust and twitch of his fingers. Stars burst in her vision as she came, her orgasm so sudden that it was all she could do to just hang on. She arched into him, her head thrown back as he quickly followed, her name on his lips as he came.

Exhausted she fell back against him, her limbs too weak to support her weight. The water lapped at her sensitized breasts, causing her to twitch slightly in the aftershocks of her orgasm. Sebastian’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he slipped out of her. He placed a kiss just below her ear and sighed happily.

“Well, that was a new one for me,” she said after a while.

“What? I thought you had extensive experience with baths.”

“All solo efforts my friend. You’re the first that I’ve shared with.”

There was a brief silence, so brief that she barely noticed it. “I’m honored then.”

“As you should be. I consider baths sacred,” she paused, snickering. “Even more so now.”

“I’m inclined to agree. I wouldn’t mind sharing a bath with you again sometime.”

“At a later date. I don’t think I can handle another round tonight. You’ve exhausted me Sebastian.”

“I do aim to please.”

“You most definitely did.”

“Several times.”

“Now you’re just bragging.”

“I believe the Maker calls that hubris.”

Éowyn snorted. “Some Choir Boy you are.”

“I still serve the Maker, just not in the same way as when I was sent to the Chantry.”

“Not meant for a life of solitude and prayer?”

“Not as such no,” he said quietly. Éowyn thought he wasn’t going to say anything more as he linked their hands together before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close. “I was angry, very angry when my parents sent me away. I wasn’t a willing participant as you know. I actually ran away from the Chantry. Twice. I got sent back the first time.”

“And the second?”

“I went back voluntarily. The Grand Cleric, she saw that I wasn’t willing to be committed to the Chantry and she wasn’t going to force me to stay.”

“But she accepted your commitment to begin with. The practice is archaic and wrong. No one should be forced into a life like that.”

“She was still relatively new as Grand Cleric, wasn’t as willing to buck the Chantry’s tradition of taking in people like me. She was quiet about it, worked in her own way to make sure that I was certain of my decision to stay.”

“From what I hear, she put up quiet a fight when you decided to leave after your family was murdered.”

“She was not happy, to be sure. She still isn’t but I made my decision and I have no regrets.” He kissed her shoulder. “None at all. I find myself quite happy with where I am now.”

A knot in her chest that she hadn’t realized was there uncoiled at his words. Some part of her had thought that once this was all done that he would return to the Chantry despite his claims of taking Vael Consolidated back. She should really talk to someone about her trust issues.

“We should probably get out of here before we turn all pruney.”

“Pruney? That is not a word,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice as she stood up and carefully stepped out of the bath. Water covered the floor around it, proof positive of their recent activities. Grabbing a towel from the bar, she wrapped it around her before placing her hands on her hips.

“I beg to differ. Take a look at your hands. They’re completely pruney. I defy you to come up with a better word.”

“Once I get my hands on a dictionary, I shall, but for now it’s late.”

Sebastian stood up in the tub, his tan skin glistening with water. Éowyn felt her mouth go dry at the sight of him. He looked like something out of the tales of old when gods walked the earth. The man was just too damn gorgeous for his own damn good.

Before her hormones could get the better of her, she tossed a towel at him and walked out of the bathroom, her bare feet slapping against the floor. Once in the bedroom she placed a shaky hand over her stomach. She stared at the bed that took up almost half of the room. It was wide as a lake and could have easily fit three people with room to spare. It was more than a little odd to see such a luxury in a former Chantry brother’s bedroom but then the whole townhouse seemed extravagant to her. It was a little disorientating. Sebastian had told her that it belonged to his family, that they had kept the house here for when they had extended business in Kirkwall. It had sat empty for years up until he broke ties with the Chantry. The townhome, just like the Vael estate, had been bequeathed to him by his grandfather and therefore not subject to his cousin’s acquisition of Vael Consolidated.

Looking around she spied her clothes laying on the floor, surprisingly none the worse for wear. Rummaging through them she pulled out her underwear and slipped them on. She frowned at the pile, realizing that what she had wasn’t suitable for sleeping.

“Something the matter, my dear?” Sebastian came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders before placing a kiss against her neck.

“It’s nothing really. It’s just that…”

“Just what?”

“I’m not used to sleeping in the nude. I… I don’t feel safe doing that,” she said quietly.

Sebastian gently squeezed her shoulders before stepping away. “I’m sure I can find a shirt or something for you to wear. Will that suffice?”

Grateful beyond words that she didn’t have to explain herself further she nodded. Sebastian moved over to the dresser, his towel slung low over his hips. She didn’t have long to admire his form before he pulled out a short sleeved t-shirt that was big enough for her to swim in.

“Thank you,” she said as he gave it to her, leaning up to press a kiss against his lips. Pulling the shirt over her head she let the towel fall to the floor. She watched with some amusement as Sebastian picked it up and rubbed it over her hair, using it to squeeze out the excess water. It was such a domestic thing to do that it took her aback.

“You know, when I woke up this morning, this is not how I thought today would end. It was the last thing I would have expected,” she said as she climbed onto the bed. She watched as Sebastian shimmied into a pair of pyjama pants before tossing the towels into the bathroom and raised an eyebrow at his cavalier attitude toward tidiness. “Those’ll get moldy if you leave them.”

“I’ll take care of it in the morning,” he said as he joined her on the bed. “And I can safely say the same. I was very annoyed with you by the time I finally tracked you down.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” she paused. “I had my reasons, you know, for putting you at a distance.”

“I know. I don’t agree with it, but I know.”

Éowyn expected him to further argue with her about it but he said nothing as he laid back on the bed, gathering her in his arms. What tiny perverse part of her wanted him to argue with her about that? As he seemed content with the outcome, she shrugged it off, she snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It was odd. Her life had always seemed like it was caught in a whirlwind, but here, in that moment, she felt a calm she’d never felt before. She fell asleep to that happy thought and the sound of his heart.


	19. Chapter 19

Éowyn woke bathed in sunlight. Light beamed through the window, warming her skin. She stretched lazily, reaching across the bed only to feel no body lying next to her. Opening her eyes, she lifted her head up from the mattress and found that she was alone. She could see the indent of Sebastian’s head on his pillow but the man himself was nowhere to be found. Sitting up, she scanned across the room she could see that he’d tidied up the room; their discarded clothes from the night before were picked up, nowhere to be seen.

A glance at the clock told her that it was past ten. When was the last time she had slept so late? Where was Sebastian?

She strained her ears but the house was silent. Birds twittered outside the window and she could hear the sounds of Kirkwall waking up. It was quieter up here in Hightown with no rumbling of heavy trucks or screaming of school-age children ditching school. A light breeze drifted through the open window, bringing with it the sounds of car that didn’t backfire every twenty feet. The air smelled clean, as clean as Kirkwall air could smell, and…

Was that coffee?

Éowyn swung her legs over the bed and stood up, sniffing at the air. Yes, that was definitely coffee.

She made her way down the curving stair, following the scent. She could now hear the sounds of someone moving around on the first floor and the sizzle of something hitting a hot pan. Éowyn padded across the main room toward the kitchen. When she reached the doorway she saw Sebastian standing in front of the stove, softly humming to himself as he stirred something in the pan.

Éowyn sniffed again and felt her toes curl. Holy Maker that was bacon.

She must have made some noise because Sebastian turned away from the stove and smiled when he saw her. A towel was draped over his shoulder and his hair was still mussed from the night before. It shouldn’t be possible, but she didn’t think she had ever seen anything more sexy in her life.

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said. “Breakfast should be ready in a few minutes. I was going to bring it up to you but since you’re here take a seat. I made some coffee too.”

“I could smell that from upstairs. What do you think brought me down?,” she said as she slid into the breakfast nook. A huge bay window opened up into a small garden. Éowyn could see both flowers and vegetables growing there and a large tree providing shade for a pair of recliners. What world had she stepped into?

He smiled. “I also made pancakes.” Éowyn’s head snapped up, her mouth watering even as her stomach growled.

“You are too good to be true. Keep this up and I may never leave.”

“I would be a poor host if I didn’t provide food for my guests,” he said as he slid the bacon out of the pan and onto a plate. Éowyn watched, slightly dumbfounded and just a little bit aroused while he pulled a stack of pancakes from the warmer and set it on the table with the bacon. Who knew that domesticity was attractive?

“Where did you learn how to do this?”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “The Chantry. When I arrived I was volunteered by one of the mothers to help in the kitchens but soon I began to like it. There’s something about creating a meal and providing for others that appealed to me.”

“Feeding souls and stomachs?”

“Something like that,” he said as he sat down, filling Éowyn’s cup with steaming coffee. She deeply inhaled it’s scent before taking a sip. Pure pleasure rolled through her as the rich taste flowed over her tongue.

“Holy Andraste. This is Tevinter coffee, isn’t it? You practically have to sell a kidney to get your hands on this stuff. How in the hell did you get it?”

“It was a gift from a friend for my name-day.”

“Wow. I should find a friend like that. You do _not_ want to know what type of coffee I drink.”

“I’m guessing it tastes like something that’s been dead for three days and then left on the burner?”

“Something like that,” she said, reaching for the bacon and realized how hungry she was as soon as the salted meat touched her tongue. Searching her mind she tried to remember when she last ate and to her chagrin she realized it had been over half a day. Deciding to keep that little bit of information to herself she speared a couple of pancakes and put them on her plate. As she poured syrup on them she caught the grimace on Sebastian’s face.

“What? I like syrup.”

“So I see.”

“Look pal,” she said, stabbing her fork in his direction. “This is how I eat. You’re just going to have to accept that. And before you say anything, yes I do from time to time eat the occasional vegetable.”

“Before or after it’s drowned in butter?”

Éowyn just smiled at him before taking a giant bite of syrup drenched pancake. Sebastian wasn’t the first person to be shocked by her eating habits and he wouldn’t be the last.

They spent the next half hour eating and talking about everything and nothing. It was the first time in a long time that she had spent a morning like this; by the end Éowyn had filled her plate twice, nearly eating her weight in pancakes and bacon. She was reaching for the coffee pot again when she happened to look down and remembered that all she was clad in only a t-shirt and panties.

“So, you don’t happen to know what happened to my clothes do you? As comfortable as this is I don’t think I should go out onto the streets of Kirkwall dressed like this.”

Sebastian smiled at her over his coffee cup. “No, I suppose not. I had them pressed this morning.”

Éowyn just stared at him. He was spoiling her and she told him so.

“It seems to me that you could use a bit of spoiling.”

She opened her mouth to respond only to realize that she wasn’t sure what to say. Throughout her whole life she’d been forced to be self-sufficient. After her father had died she’d had to step into his shoes and take care of her family. Carver had helped but the majority of it had fallen on her shoulders.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, tossing her napkin at him. She moved to gather her dishes when he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap. His hand rested on her thigh as he swooped in for a kiss. Éowyn reached up and cupped his cheek as she leaned into it. This part, this she could get used to quite easily.

Pulling back, he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, gazing into her eyes.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she whispered, dropping another kiss on his lips. “Thank you for breakfast. Now, about my clothes.”

“Are you sure you don’t want another cup of coffee?” he asked, his hand sliding further up her thigh. Éowyn swatted it away as she stood up.

“Somehow I think your definition of coffee and mine are different at this particular moment. I don’t have time this morning for some hanky-panky.”

Sebastian reached out and took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “Are you sure? It can be a good way to start the day.”

“Then you should have stayed in bed.” When he turned her hand over and kissed her palm she had to fight the dual emotions of desire and exasperation. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Only as far as you’re concerned,” he paused. “Will you come back tonight?”

Éowyn cocked her head to the side, considering. “Considering that my only other option right now is Isabela’s or my office,” she paused, giving a dramatic shudder before continuing, “Most likely. But for now I need to get dressed and get to the office before Carver gets there. It’ll be close to noon by the time I get there. He’ll either speed through his visit with our mother or drag his ass in getting it done. It’s a toss up as to which one it is.”

“I’ll drive you back.”

“Kirkwall has a perfectly good trolley system. You should try it. One less car on the street is a good thing in my mind.”

“Only if it’s your car, _mo chridhe_.”

“I resent that. I’m an excellent driver.”

“I’ve been in the car with you-,”

“You do not want to finish that sentence, Sebastian Vael,” she warned, her eyes narrowing. He just looked at her, giving her a lopsided grin that had no right to be a sexy as it was. It was irritating and she found herself glaring at him despite the curl of desire growing within her.

They were interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. They looked toward the door and then at each other.

“Are you expecting anyone?”

“No, and it’s too early for the mail. Stay here, I’ll go see who it is.”

“Yes, because I was about to go instead. I’m sure opening the door wearing nearly nothing won’t cause a stir at all,” she called after him.

Éowyn indulged in another cup of coffee while Sebastian dealt with whoever was at the door.. She could hear him talking to someone but couldn’t quite make out the words. After a couple of minutes Sebastian returned to the kitchen, a plain cream colored envelope in his hands. Sebastian was frowning at it as he turned it over in his hands.

“What is it?”

“It’s another letter. Like the first one.”

“The one sent by your secret admirer?”

“That’s not exactly how I would put it, but yes.”

“Who brought it? The mail carrier?”

“No, some kid.”

“Just a kid? Did he say who gave it to him?”

“No, he said it was left with the other deliveries he had to make.”

“And you just let him go?”

“I doubt he could have given you any more information than what he gave me.”

“You could have bribed him with bacon. Maker’s breath, perfect time for me to be without pants. What does it say?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Oh for-. Here let me.”

Taking the envelope from him, she turned it over, examining the exterior. The only writing on the outside was Sebastian’s name and address, nothing else. It was from the same stock as the previous note, she’d bet her life on it. Éowyn picked at the sealed flap, carefully pealing it back. Inside there was just a single piece of cardstock and when she pulled out the card, she started swearing profusely at the two lines written there:

_They know you’re looking. Be careful._

“The depth of your profanity amazes me almost as much as your propensity to occasionally hit things. What do you think?”

“What do I think? I think that whoever is sending these notes has watched too many movies. All this cloak and dagger makes my eye twitch.” She gave him a hard look. “Things are escalating.”

“Wasn’t this something you suspected could happen?”

“It wasn’t a matter of _if_ Sebastian, it was more a matter of _when_. Dammit, I should have been more careful. Should have worked this out faster.”

“You did the best with what you had. You told me yourself that with the amount of time that has passed it would be difficult to find information but with what little you’ve had to work with you have moved mountains. Without you I would have never suspected the Harrimans.”

“It’s not an absolute certainty that they’re behind this.”

“But you think that it’s highly likely.”

“It’s without a doubt in my mind but I don’t have hard proof and without it the chances for a conviction are slim.” Éowyn set the card and envelope on the counter and pressed her hands on either side of it. If they knew then they would act. Johane Harriman wasn’t a person who would suffer someone usurping her power and authority. Such people tended to get very dangerous when faced with such a situation. The fact that she had sent those thugs after them said as much. It was worrying though that there hadn’t been any further action. Very worrying.

Sebastian placed a hand over hers. “You’ll figure it out. I have every faith that you will.”

Éowyn leaned into him, taking solace in his faith but she kept her fear bottled down. What if she didn’t stop Johane in time? What if the next attack was successful? What if despite her best efforts something happened to him? What if he died?

She wasn’t sure how she would be able to handle such a loss.

Shaking herself, she turned to him, giving him a bright smile. “If I’m to get to work on this, I’m going to need my clothes.”

“Of course.”

~~~

Thirty minutes later they were leaving the townhome. Éowyn stepped down to the sidewalk as Sebastian locked the door behind them. After a brief discussion she finally convinced him to take the trolley as his car was a giant magnet for trouble. She scanned the street and surrounding area. To anyone else it probably looked like a perfectly safe and normal neighborhood but to her mind’s eye she saw shadows and angles everywhere. Hightown’s efforts to beautify the area made it too easy for a person to hide. She felt exposed and didn’t like it.

Sebastian had just reached her, placing his hand at the small of her back when she heard her name being called. Turning she saw Guillaume and Dulci de Launcet approaching them. Éowyn suppressed a groan as she saw the expression of pure glee on Dulci’s face. The woman looked as if she had just stumbled on the juiciest piece of gossip of the year and in her mind she probably thought she had. All Éowyn could think of was how this was going to complicate her life even more. It was a sure thing that her mother would hear about her leaving Sebastian’s home within the hour.

“Mr and Mrs de Launcet, what a surprise seeing you here.”

“Oh my dear, you know that you may call me Dulci. After all, you helped us so much with our little problem all those months ago.”

“It was nothing, really.”

“Oh don’t be so modest! I doubt that anyone else could have helped us with Emile as much as you did. We are ever so grateful.”

“We wouldn’t have needed her help if the fool boy was able to keep two brain cells in his head at any one time.”

“Oh, you’re too hard on him Guillaume. Emil does his best.”

Éowyn was forced to bite her tongue as she wasn’t able to disagree with Guillaume de Launcet’s accurate if somewhat harsh statement about their son. The de Launcet hier was indeed an idiot. How he hadn’t ended up in a gutter with his throat slit before she found him was a Maker-damned miracle.

“What brings you up to Hightown, my dear? Come to visit your darling mother?” The false sweetness in Dulci’s voice crawled up her neck. She’d just seen her exiting Sebastian’s townhome. Dulci wasn’t exactly the brightest bulb but even she could figure out what was going on.

“Ah, no. Business I’m afraid, to which I need to attend to.”

“Oh but surely you have a few minutes. It’s been ages since we’ve seen you. You don’t attend your mother’s teas often enough!”

 _For good reason_ , Éowyn thought to herself, trying not to grind her teeth. She tried to bury her impatience and wasn’t sure she was successful. With the new letter burning a hole in her bag she was itchy to start working on it.

“Dulci, love of my life, leave the poor girl be. I’m sure she has plenty to do besides gossip with you on the sidewalk.”

“Oh pish, she’s fine. Who is your handsome gentleman?”

_You know damn well who he is, you ridiculous woman._

“Dearheart, you’ve met Sebastian Vael before. Granted that was in his capacity as a Chantry brother, though you’re now working to take back Vael Consolidated from what I hear.”

“That is true, though it’s a slow process.”

“As is anything with business. My condolences on your family again. If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” There was no mistaking the stiffness in Sebastian’s tone. He wanted out of this conversation almost as much as she did.

Dulci nudged her elbow into her husband’s ribs. “Darling, we should ask them to dinner.” Turning to Éowyn and Sebastian, she continued. “We’re having a little fête later this month. The two of you simply _must_ come, I insist.”

“I-.” Éowyn began but stopped, unsure of how to respond.

“We’ll have to check our calendars to see if we’re available. Now, I beg your forgiveness, but we’re late for a meeting.”

Dulci blinked and Éowyn could have sworn the Guillaume was hiding a smirk as they walked away.

When they were about twenty feet away from the older couple Éowyn leaned over and said, “You do realize we don’t know the date of their ‘little fête’ right?”

“Oh my, that must have slipped my mind. How rude of me.”

Now she laughed. “When I first met you I never would have thought you capable of lying like that.”

“First impressions can be wrong. I thought Detective Hawke was a man afterall.”

“I believe that’s more of an assumption than a first impression. The male half of the Hawke Detective Agency left a long time ago but that doesn’t stop people from assuming that I’m a secretary at first.”

“You quickly disabused me of that assumption if I remember correctly,” he said, taking her hand in his as they crossed the street. “You seemed to take an inordinate amount of pleasure in my discomfort.”

“Well, a girl’s gotta have her fun from time to time. Also, I’ve learned that it’s better to laugh at it than punch every poor misogynistic sod who crosses my path. Gets hard on the knuckles after a while.”

“From what I’ve seen that doesn’t seem to stop you too much.”

“Well, as I’ve told others, there’re just some assholes that don’t understand anything else. And before you say it, yes, I try talking first, but some won’t listen to reason.”

“There does seem to be a disproportionate amount of people who seem to take personal offense to your vocation.”

“I can’t say I as blame them much as it’s their own actions that brought them across my path. Maker’s breath it’s hot. What I wouldn’t give for a cool breeze.”

“We could take a trip up the Storm Coast after you solve the case. I think we could both use a little get away.”

“Now there’s an idea,” she said as the boarded the trolley. Even though it was only partially full as the main morning rush was over Éowyn kept standing, keeping a firm hold on one of the poles. Sebastian stood just behind her, gripping one of the handholds hanging from the ceiling. The trolley lurched to a start, causing her to fall back into him. He steadied her with his hand on her hip, lingering longer than was publically appropriate but she found that she didn’t care too much. He couldn’t seem to stop touching her in some way; a hand at the small of her back, brushing hair off her face, a lingering kiss. If he kept this up the couch in her office might get some use again. Or perhaps the wall. Or the floor. Or her desk. She wasn’t picky. It occurred to her that they had yet to make use of a bed for anything other than sleep but she was fairly certain that oversight would be remedied sooner rather than later. Which brought a sobering thought to her mind, one that she couldn’t properly address at that particular moment.

The ride to Lowtown didn’t take that long but she was still sweating by the time they reached the stop closest to her office. Stepping off before the trolley had come to a complete stop, she surveyed the area around her. Everything around her looked normal, nothing appeared out of place.

“You’re tense.”

“Can you blame me? I keep expecting the bogeyman to jump out of the shadows.”

“In broad daylight? Do you really think they would be that bold?”

“Considering everything she’s done to destroy your family, yes, yes I do.”

Sebastian was silent as the climbed the stairs to her office. Walking down the narrow hallway Éowyn felt a tingling go down her spine that had nothing to do with Sebastian’s presence. As they neared the office she noticed that the door was slightly ajar and shattered glass lay across the floor. Swearing softly, she reached underneath her jacket, she flipped the snap on her hostler and pulled out her gun, grateful that Mallory hadn’t felt it necessary to keep it for evidence. She waved Sebastian back as she inched along the wall, listening intently for any movement inside the office. Sniffing, she caught a whiff of something burning.

“Oh, hell no.”

Pushing the door open, she led with her gun, tracking across the room but there was no one in sight. There was, however, plenty of evidence that someone had been in her office and they hadn’t been tidy. Papers were strewn all across the office. Her file cabinets were upended, emptied of their contents. It looked like someone had taken a hacksaw to her board; the thing was nearly cut in two. Everything she had gathered, all of her meticulous notes, were torn down and currently burning in her trash bin. Flames rose up over the edges as smoke began to fill the room.

“Shit, fuck.”

Holstering her weapon, Éowyn ran to the sink, grabbing her coffee pot and dumped the contents before filling it with water. The trash bin fire hissed as she doused it with the water. She stood over it, watching as the flames sputtered and died as rage filled her and had to fight the urge to fling the now empty coffee pot across the room.

“Dammit.”

“Was that everything?”

“Just about. Most of the important stuff anyway. They knew exactly what to look for. It’s a fucking miracle that the whole building didn’t catch fire. I don’t think we missed them by much.” Éowyn knelt down and inspected the trash bin closer. She could only smell ash and the chemical odor of burnt photos, no trace of any type of accelerant. Glancing down, she saw something on the floor. She knelt down, setting the coffee pot to the side and looked closer at the object. Carefully picking it up by the edges she saw that it was a matchbook with what looked like the remains of a cigarette wedged between the cover.

“Well, smarter than I gave them credit for. Looks like they used a poor man’s detonator. Guess they have a further head start than I thought.” She tossed the thing to the floor and combed her hands through her hair in frustration. The day had had such a wonderful start and it was now quickly going down the toilet.

“Well, if there was any doubt that they knew you hired me before, there’s none now. Dammit.” Standing up, she gave into the urge and kicked the coffee pot across the room. It landed next to the couch and upon looking closer she saw that they had taken a knife to it, leaving giant gaping holes in the fabric and tufts of stuffing torn out. If she already hadn’t kicked the coffee pot she would have again.

“So much for preserving it for posterity,” she grumbled, her hands clenched into fists.

“I’m sorry, Éowyn. I brought this on you.”

Éowyn turned to him, eyes fierce. “This is not your fault Sebastian. This is Johane Harriman and the goons she hired. She must be desperate to come after me like this. I’m not going to stop though, I promise you that. I have copies, this won’t stop me.”

“Where are the copies?”

“They’re at… oh shit.”

Éowyn made for the door only to run straight into a solid mass of muscle. Pushing back she saw Carver.

“Andraste’s ass, what is wrong with you.”

“Out of my way Carver.”

“What,” he paused when he took in the room. “What in the living hell happened?”

“Johane Harriman’s goons. Now out of my way.”

“Just wait a minute. We need to call the police. Aveline at least.”

“You call them. Or try. Not sure if they destroyed the phone too.” She made to move around him but stopped as a thought came to mind.

“Did you drive your motorcycle here?”

“Yeah, it’s outside. Why?”

“Keys. Now.”

Carver took them out of his pocket, but paused before giving them to her. Fed up, Éowyn grabbed them from his hand and ran out the door. She could hear both Sebastian and Carver yelling after her but she was gone and down the stairs before either of them could stop her.

She really wanted to be wrong. She really did.

She was only slightly winded by the time she reached the street. Spying Carver’s motorcycle parked conveniently right in front of the building, she jumped on and started it up. Bits of dirt and garbage spit out behind her as she gunned the engine and tore into traffic, ignoring the angry horns that blared around her.

Éowyn wove in and out of the mid-morning traffic, barely missing the bumpers of several cars. The streets became steeper the closer she drew nearer to her house but she didn’t slow down. As she crested a hill, the motorcycle caught air, landing with a jolt that made her teeth clatter together and still she pushed it for more speed.

Her worst fears were realized as she saw smoke rising in the distance. As she spun around the corner leading to her street she saw flames licking the sky as inky black smoke writhed around them. People lined the streets, transfixed by the sight.

“Oh, Maker no.”

She came to a sudden stop in front of the house, the motorcycle wobbling under her as she hastily pushed down the kickstand and started running to the house. A hand grabbed her arm and without thinking Éowyn spun and launched her fist into the person’s face. Anders stumbled back, grabbing his nose as blood spurted between his fingers. Even so, he held fast to her arm.

“Let me go.”

“Are you insane? The house is about to come down.”

“I don’t care. The last thing I have of Bethany’s is in there!”

That gave Anders enough of a pause for her to twist out of his grip and run into the house. The heat was unimaginable. Smoke filled the front room. Through it she could see her kitchen that had been in the midst of repairs was fully engulfed. Hugging the far wall, she hurried down the hallway to her room. Halfway down she was forced to her knees by the smoke and prayed that she didn’t pass out before she got there.

Éowyn reached up for the handle and dragged herself into the room, shutting the door behind her. The goons had mercifully not set fire to her bed and with the door closed the smoke had a harder time getting in. As it was her lungs felt like they themselves were on fire as she started coughing. Still on her hand and knees across the carpet she crawled over to her nightstand. Through the haze she saw the ceramic mabari Bethany had given her one year for her name-day in memory of their mabari Ghost. It was the kitschy sort of thing one would find at a roadside stand but in actuality Bethany had made it in one of her art therapy classes. Out of all of her possessions it was the most precious.

Despite the closed door smoke was quickly filling the small room. Clutching the figurine in one hand, she used the nightstand to pull herself up. She could feel the heat coming through the door and knew she wouldn’t be able to come out the way she came. She knew she didn’t have much time but with the smoke filling her lungs it was hard to move. Her limbs felt heavy as she pulled herself along the edge of the bed. With her head pounding and her chest caught in a vice she finally reached the window and clawed at the latch. Spots formed over her vision as she fumbled with it.

She had just managed to flip it when something boomed within the house, sending a shockwave throughout. The door behind her broke open and she was slammed against the window by the force of the wave. She felt blood on her lips as she pulled her head away from the glass. Knowing that time was short she yanked on the window frame and leaned out, taking in huge gulps of fresh air. The house shuddered around her as she half climbed, half fell out, feeling more like a rag doll than a human. Coming from the inferno inside, the prickly grass felt almost cool against her skin.

Éowyn dragged herself to her feet, blood rushing from her head as she stood up and stumbled forward. She could hear the sirens now and people shouting. It’s too late, she thought to herself. What Samson had started over a week ago, Johane’s goons had finished.

With the mabari figurine held tight in her hand, she used the fence to pull herself forward toward the street. She knew that she should move faster but her body wasn’t cooperating. Despite the short amount of time she’d spent in the smoke-filled house it had been more than enough to sap her energy.

If she died back here they were all going to kill her.

Something else exploded in the house, showering her with glass and wood. Éowyn felt them bite into her skin even as she continued moving forward. She heard shouting and suddenly hands were grabbing for her, slinging an arm around her waist as they half-carried her out to the street.

Through her blurry vision she could see the crowd gathering on the opposite side of the street, both the fire brigade and the guard keeping them back. Whoever was carrying her shouted for help and she could hear footsteps pounding toward them. More hands grabbed her, supporting her on her other side. Éowyn hissed as they touched a spot on her arm where she’d taken some shrapnel when the windows had exploded.

More shouting rang around her as someone forced her to sit down and placed a mask over her mouth. Éowyn inhaled the clean air deeply, coughing heavily as she continued to hold Bethany’s mabari to her chest. People moved around her, shouting for more water and she didn’t care. She was able to rescue the most precious thing she had, the house could go to the Void.

“Éowyn!”

Éowyn looked up through bleary eyes to see Sebastian and Carver running toward her. Sebastian beat him to her by just a few paces, pulling her into his arms and burying his face in her neck.

He pulled back, hands on her shoulders. “What possessed you to run off like that? Why would you go in there?” His voice shook with fear. He had the look of a man that didn’t know if he wanted to shake her or pull her closer and never let her go.

“I-,” she croaked, stopped when a fit of coughing wracked her body.

Carver stepped forward, kneeling before her. He reached out and touched her hand, the one holding Bethany’s mabari. Pulling it toward him he saw what she held. “This. You went in there for this?”

“It’s the only thing of hers I have left, Carver,” she said quietly.

She expected him to yell at her but he surprised her by saying nothing. He just covered her hand with his, sorrow filling his face.

“I understand. I probably would have done the same, even if it was an incredibly stupid thing to do.”

Éowyn opened her mouth to respond when her stomach revolted. “I think I’m going to be sick.” No sooner than the words were out of her mouth than what was left of her breakfast landed on the ground, narrowly missing both of the men’s feet. Between the retching and coughing Éowyn was ready to sleep for a week. Problem was that she didn’t have time to sleep. Even so all her limbs felt heavy and it was an effort to stay upright.

“She should go to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the fucking hospital, Anders, so you can just stop right there.”

“In your condition right now I don’t think you’d be able to put up much of a fight.”

“Try me.”

“Oh for Maker’s sake, why are you like this? It’s not just the smoke inhalation, you’re bleeding too. You know better.”

“What are they going to do, Carver? Give me more oxygen and stitches for these scratches? Just give me a few minutes here and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“That’s weak, even for you.”

Éowyn caught Sebastian glancing at Anders. “Are they always like this?” he asked.

“Oh, no. Sometimes they’re worse.”

Sebastian just shook his head in response. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to convince you to go?”

“What do you think?”

He sighed in response. “Then at least will you come home? You can work there as easily as anywhere else.”

Éowyn saw the look her brother and Carver shared but the temptation to say anything was outweighed by her exhaustion. “Fine. But we’ll need to stop by Varric’s office and get my copies.”

“They’re not in the house?”

“Of course not. That’s the first place anyone would look for them. I’m not stupid.”

Carver snorted derisively while Anders rolled his eyes. Sebastian just shook his head ruefully as he examined her carefully, like he was trying to memorize her face. “Are you okay to go, or do you need a few more minutes?”

“I’m fine.” She let her gaze trail over to what was left of her house. The fire brigade had done their best but it was a loss. It crossed her mind that she truly was homeless now and with the couch in her office destroyed she had nowhere to sleep. Maker’s balls, if she had to move in with her mother she was going to run screaming all the way back to Fereldan.

With Sebastian’s help, she got to her feet and was relieved that her legs shook only a little. As he led her away she suddenly remembered that she had driven here by herself.

“Wait. How did you get here? We didn’t take your car to my office.”

“Your boyfriend here paid a cabbie an obscene amount of money to get us here quickly. The guy can probably buy another cab with what he gave him.”

“Huh,” was all she managed to get out before a guard squad car pulled up beside them, tires screeching as it came to a stop.

“Oh, hell,” Éowyn muttered as she saw Aveline exit the car.

“You sit your ass back down. You look like death.”

“You say the sweetest things to me, Aveline. Better watch out or I’ll start thinking you’re flirting with me. Donnic might get jealous.”

“Oh, shut up. This is the second time in a week that I’ve been called to your house. This is a bad habit to start.”

“Still not my fault, you’ll note.”

Aveline sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Do you know whose fault it is?”

“I have my suspicions but no proof. They didn’t exactly leave a calling card.”

“But they also tried to torch the office too. They’re obviously related and shit just seems to follow you wherever you go,” Carver said.

“Shut up Carver.” Turning to Aveline, she said, “I arrived on both scenes after they left. I have no description, nothing.” A fit of coughing forced her to pause but a thought sprang to mind once the spasm stopped. “It’s possible it’s the same goons that chased us out of the Blooming Rose last week.”

“I don’t suppose either of you remember what they looked like.”

“They were average looking, big though but not Neanderthal like. I’m pretty sure one of them spent time in the ring considering the state of his nose. Both were carrying.”

“Not much of a description, Hawke.”

“Guard-Captain, if I may,. I can give you a more detailed description but I’d like to take Éowyn home first.”

Aveline raised an eyebrow at his words. She gave him a hard look but Sebastian seemingly shrugged it off. “Éowyn Hawke is many things, but she’s no wilting flower.”

“And she doesn’t need others to speak for her,” Éowyn burst in, glaring at both of them, feeling her strength coming back to her. “First, we’re going to Varric’s, get my stuff, and then we can go up to Hightown, but inbetween we’re going to stop at The Hanged Man. I want a burger.”

“Éowyn, you just threw up your breakfast.”

“I know that, I’m the one with the taste still in her mouth,” she said, untangling herself from Sebastian’s arm. “I’d like to get it out.”


	20. Chapter 20

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re certifiable?” Varric said, making it more of a statement than a question. Shaking his head, he took out a ring of keys and unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Several people. Usually after I punch them or do something some people would consider stupid.”

“Maker’s breath Hawke, this would be on the something stupid spectrum. You drove like a maniac through Lowtown traffic on your brother’s motorcycle, something I don’t think he’ll ever forgive you for; socked Anders in the nose; and then ran into a burning building to retrieve a statue of a dog. If I were to put that in a book my editor would call it unrealistic.”

“Well fortunately for you that isn’t the case. Thanks,” she said, accepting the file he held out to her. She sat partially slumped in the chair in front of Varric’s desk while Aveline and Sebastian lurked behind her. Both Carver and Anders had stayed behind to attempt to sort out the mess left by Johane’s henchmen. Anders had given them the hairy eye as they piled into Aveline’s squad car. Éowyn supposed that she should feel bad about socking him in the nose, he had only been trying to help, but at the moment her mind was preoccupied by the people who were taking hostile takeover to a whole new level.

“You caused quite a stir. Going to be hard to keep this quiet. Impossible even.”

“Do I look like I care about that right now Varric? These fuckers tried to burn down my office and _successfully_ burned down my house. You can plaster it all over the front page if you want for all I fucking care.”

“Do you really think that’s wise, Hawke? They’ve come after you twice now.”

“I’m well aware, Aveline, but again, I don’t care. They’ve made this personal now.”

“I care, dammit.”

The three of them stopped bickering and turned toward Sebastian. He’d been leaning against the closed door, arms crossed, but now he pushed away from it, anger etched across his face. “I can’t believe how cavalier you’re being with your life. I wanted justice for my family but I don’t want it at the expense of your life.”

Éowyn stared at him. He couldn’t possibly be serious. After everything he wanted to quit now?

“It’s a little late to put the horse back in the barn, so to speak. They’re not going to stop. The only way to stop Johane is to put her ass behind bars. She will see us both dead before she stops. You’re too much of a threat to her and her path to power.”

“I don’t care. This ends.”

“Sebastian-.”

“No. This is done. I’ll still pay you what I owe you, but I’m done.”

Éowyn could only stare at him. He was willing to just let it all go because she got a little bruised? Well, fuck that.

“Listen here pal. You hired me to do a job and I’m going to see it done,” she croaked, her voice still raspy from the damage the smoke had done to her throat. “She _will_ kill you. I have no doubt about that. Quitting now is not going to save you _or_ me from getting hurt. So you can take your money and shove it up your ass. I’m in this until the bitter end whether you like it or not.”

“How much proof do you have that it was Johane Harriman?” Aveline interrupted before Sebastian could respond.

“Not a lot,” Éowyn admitted. “It’s pretty circumstantial and it’s not like I can subpoena her financial records to check for large money transfers. If we can get an ID on the goons who chased us last week and tie them somehow to Johane, it’d be a step in the right direction. Short of that? I don’t have a clue unless she confesses.”

“And the villain making a grand speech confessing their crimes pretty much only happens in the movies,” said Varric. “Though chances are higher the bigger the ego and temper involved.”

“She’s lasted this long without tipping her hand, I doubt she’s going to slip up now.”

Éowyn chewed on her bottom lip, thinking over the events of the last month or so. The attacks weren’t subtle. She’d sent those Nevarrans after them in broad daylight and then the next pair in a crowded club with plenty of witnesses. And someone was bound to have seen something this morning. It was messy and sounded desperate to her mind. Desperate was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it increased the likelihood that someone would screw up; on the other it made them more dangerous.

It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t heard anything from Inspector Mallory regarding the Nevarran they had taken into custody. Sure after this much time they had gotten something out of him.

“Varric I need to borrow your phone.” Without waiting for his answer, she leaned over his desk and snatched it up. Once the operator came on the line she asked for the guard headquarters in Starkhaven, ignoring the pointed looks aimed at her.

“Inspector Mallory please. This is Éowyn Hawke. Yes, he’ll know what this is about.” Éowyn fought the urge to drum her fingers on the desk while she waited for the Inspector to get on the line. She supposed she should consider herself lucky that he was in the office.

“Detective Hawke, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Mallory wheezed like he was out of breath. There was a crackly wet sound to his voice that told her that the Inspector should probably be at home in bed being force fed chicken soup.

“Just checking in on the Nevarran. Has he said anything useful?”

The silence coming from the other end chilled her. She had a feeling she wasn’t going to like Mallory’s answer.

“Did no one tell you?”

“Tell me what, Inspector?”

“The Nevarran, we never did get his name, was found dead in his cell about five days ago.”

“What do you mean he’s dead?” she asked sharply.

“Just that. Cell guard came around for morning check and found him hanging in his cell. Someone was supposed to contact you.”

“If someone had would I be calling?”

“No, you wouldn’t.” A phlegmy cough filled the line and despite knowing that germs couldn’t be transferred over phone lines, Éowyn felt her skin crawl. “Damn this cold. I’ve been out since the day before he died. First day back in fact.”

“Sounds like you should still be at home.”

“My wife said the same.” There was a slight pause on the other end. “You don’t sound much better than me. Don’t tell me this bug has worked it’s way down to Kirkwall. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“No not sick. It’s a long story.”

“I’ll bet. Look Hawke, I told one of my boys to call you. Apparently I need to go kick his ass.”

“No offense Mallory but I don’t think you can fight your way out of a wet paper bag right now.”

“Perhaps not, but I can always threaten to sneeze on him. Kid’s so afraid of getting sick he nearly wet himself the first time I sneezed in his general direction.”

“Sounds like he’s in the wrong line of work.”

“You might be right about that,” Mallory paused, clearing his throat. “Alright, about the Nevarran. Once we got him in the box, we grilled him for hours and got next to nothing. I did learn a few new Nevarran insults. Several involved my mother.”

“I’m sure that was helpful.”

“I hear your sarcasm, Hawke, and I agree with it.” He sighed. “We sent his booking photo to the guard in Nevarra and got nothing. Same with his prints. We sent them everywhere. He’s not in the system. Any system. Nor were the other two. It was like chasing ghosts.”

“Well, that not suspicious at all.”

“That’s what I said. You can’t get through life without leaving some sort of trail. Except these guys apparently did. Someone was very careful.”

“You could say that again. Dammit.”

“Agreed. I am sorry, Hawke. I had hoped we could get some information for you. Any luck on your end?”

Éowyn had to choke back a laugh. Luck? Only the bad kind. She glanced over at Sebastian who was still wearing a scowl on his face. Well, not all of it’s been bad, she thought. Some of it was pretty damn good.

“Some, but no solid proof.”

“You have someone in mind then? Care to share?”

“I do, and no offense Mallory, not right now. If we get them, I’ll let you know.”

“You do that.” He sighed heavily. “I would really like to close this one before I retire.”

“You and me both, Mallory. Take care”

Éowyn replaced the handset in the cradle with care as she had the urge to slam it down.

“Problem?” asked Varric with one eyebrow raised as if he knew that she was trying to restrain herself.

“That Nevarran we had the pleasure of meeting at your family’s estate in Starkhaven is dead,” she said, looking at Sebastian, trying to gauge his reaction. Judging by the tightness in his jaw, not good.

“Dead? How?”

“Found strung up in his cell about a week ago. Guard has no clue how it happened.”

“Well, shit, Hawke. That’s not good.”

“Understatement of the year, Varric. And it gets worse. They have no ID on him or the other two who were in on the attack. They have no clue who they are.”

“How is that possible? You can’t do anything in life without leaving some kind of record.”

“You can if you have someone wipe it for you. Someone clever fixed it so these three were basically ghosts. The same clever person who’s been helping Johane all these years I’d wager. I have a feeling that suicide wasn’t a suicide.”

“Maker’s breath, Hawke. You know what this sounds like, don’t you?” Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose as if to ward off an impending headache. Éowyn could sympathize as she felt the same.

“Yes, I do.” Éowyn grimaced as she took a drink of some of Varric’s shitty coffee. The stuff could strip paint and was probably not the best thing for her to have in her stomach at the moment but she needed the caffeine. Part of her wished for some whiskey but she forced it back. She needed to stay leveled headed. There was plenty of time for that later. She hoped.

“It means things have just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated.”

“I don’t understand. What does this mean?”

“It means, Sebastian, that Johane isn’t doing this alone. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe that it was just her. With everything that has happened to you and your family there’s no way she could have done this alone. It’s too sophisticated. Even with her money and connections, she can’t turn people into ghosts. She had help. A fixer.”

“What in Andraste’s name is a fixer?”

“A fixer, Choir Boy, is a person who has fingers in every pie, has a spider’s web of connections throughout all of Thedas. These are the people who can make or break kings and queens. They can cause cities to fall.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Deadly. These are not the types of people you want in your parlor.”

“Are we done with the bad analogies, Varric? Andraste’s ass, they’re almost as bad as your puns.”

“Ha! You’re one to talk about puns, Hawke. Weren’t you the one to make the comment about that duke from Orlais falling from grace when his car ran off the road?”

“Oh shut up.”

“Can you two be serious for just five seconds? Hawke, if you’re right and there is a fixer involved here, it might be time to officially bring in the guard.”

“To do what, Aveline? Stick to my ass like a barnacle and just get in my way? No, it’s better if the guard stays out of this for now.”

“Now’s not the time to let your pride get in the way.”

“It has nothing to do with my pride Aveline and everything to do with me being able to move quickly without having to worry about a babysitter. I-.”

“Hawke! I brought your burger. I even talked Corff into letting me bring you a milkshake. He was grumpy about it though.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Éowyn said as she reached for the bag Merrill held with eager hands. The younger woman was flushed, a crown of sweat beaded across her forehead. Had she run all the way here? “Please tell me it’s chocolate.”

“Of course it is. I got here as quick as I could. I didn’t want your milkshake to melt. That would be awful, all soupy and stuff,” Merrill paused in her babbling, her eyes growing wide. “Why do you look like a chimney sweep?”

Éowyn flushed, guilt sweeping through her as she realized that Merrill didn’t know the whole truth of what had transpired this morning.

“There was a bit of an accident at the house this morning. I’m fine,” she said hurriedly as Merrill’s eyes grew wider and started to fill with tears. “Just a bit singed. I’m fine.”

“Oh, Hawke, that was your place? We could see the smoke from The Hanged Man. _Three_ fire engines passed by the diner. Is it really all gone? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, it’s gone. Carver’s overseeing whatever needs to be done right now.” She winced as the words came out of her mouth and she saw Merrill’s eyes light up.

“Carver’s in town?” Her crush on Carver was not exactly a secret but her brother, dense as he was, never picked up on it. Everyone else could see it and Éowyn prayed the day would never come that he crushed her friend’s heart. There would be some definite ass kicking if it ever came.

“He came in yesterday on a different matter. He’ll be going back to Weishaupt soon though I’m guessing,” she said, mentally kicking herself again as she finished speaking. She prayed for everyone’s sanity that Merrill got over her crush soon.

“Well, I’m glad that he’s here to help you. Family is supposed to help you when you need it.This is just horrible. Where are you going to stay?”

“I have that figured out, don’t worry.” Éowyn cast a quick glance at Sebastian, but not quick enough for Merrill to miss. Her eyes darted back and forth between them and soon enough a smile sprouted on her lips that was matched in her eyes.

“Oh, it's you! I remember you. You're Hawke's fella. I'm so sorry but I'm rubbish with names.”

Éowyn had to fight the urge to plant her face in her palm. Merrill, the romantic at heart that she was, was not going to let this go.

“This is Sebastian, Merrill. He’s a,” she paused, suddenly unsure exactly how to categorize their relationship. “He’s a friend,” she ended lamely. Obviously it was much more than that but at the moment she was hard pressed to define it more. She already had enough on her plate.

“A friend,” Merrill said, winking at her, obviously not buying into it. “A special kind of friend, I hope. You so deserve to be happy.”

“Merrill-.” Éowyn started only to be interrupted by a squeaking Merrill.

“You’re Mr Darrow’s nephew too, aren't you. He had so very many nice things to say about you when he was in the diner last week. He was ever so worried about you. And Hawke. He was worried about her too. He was a very nice man.”

“That Uncle Gideon is,” Sebastian responded, his face softening at Merrill’s babbling.

“Don’t you need to be getting back to The Hanged Man? Corff’s probably pulling out what little hair he has left wondering where you are.”

Merrill’s already wide eyes grew even wider. “Oh my goodness. He’ll be so mad if I dawdle. He’ll think I was day dreaming or that I got lost again.”

“Let me get one of my boys to walk you back”

“Oh, no, Varric, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s not a bother. Think of it as a favor to me. Kid’s been stuck behind his desk all day, he could use the fresh air,” he said, flashing them a mischievous grin. “Parker! Get in here.”

From outside the office Éowyn could hear the panicked scrambling of one of Varric’s ‘boys’ as he called them. Within thirty seconds a scrawny, bespectacled kid who couldn’t have weighed more than a buck thirty soaking wet lurched into the doorway. The kid wore an expression somewhere between wariness and eagerness that Éowyn found fascinating.

“Yes, Mr Tethras?”

“Parker, I want you to take Merrill here back to The Hanged Man.”

“But Mr Tethras, you wanted me to get those proofs done-.”

“And now I want you to do this. Take your camera with you and see if you can find something interesting to report on after you do this for me.”

“But Mr Tethras-.”

“Don’t but me Parker, just do it.”

“Yes sir.” He glanced owlishly at Merrill, a flush running up his face. “Let me grab my camera and we can go.”

“Oh, I better go.” She turned back to Éowyn. “Please tell me if you need anything. I want to help.”

“You already helped by bringing me food,” she said, taking a huge bite of the burger. A blob of ketchup oozed out and plopped onto her pants leg. All she could do was sigh as she blotted at it with a napkin. The suit was ruined anyway. The ketchup did nicely brighten it up though.

“Oh, okay.” She turned to Sebastian. “It was very nice meeting you again Sebastian. You and Hawke should come to the diner sometime; we have some pretty good food.”

“We’ll try to make an effort to come soon,” he said as Parker appeared in the doorway again, shifting nervously on his feet. Merrill smiled at him as she approached, causing his face to flush red. He stuttered a bit as he followed her out of Varric’s office and through the newsroom. Éowyn covered a laugh by taking a huge drink from her milkshake.

“What’s the deal with the kid?”

“Parker? He’d be a decent reporter if he got out of his own way. Kid’s smart as hell and takes some damned fine photographs, just wish he’d be on time more. Gotta respect the deadline.”

“Seems on the scrawny side.”

“Yeah. Pulled him out of one of the slum adjacent neighborhoods here in Lowtown.”

Éowyn had nothing to say to that as she polished off the rest of the burger. It was a common story down here. Once you get caught in the circle of poverty it was nearly impossible to get out. She hoped that this kid knew how lucky he was that Varric had signed him on.

“What do you plan to do now that you’re done stuffing your face?”

“I won’t apologize for enjoying my food Aveline.” Éowyn slurped down the rest of her milkshake, a feeling a moment’s regret when it was all gone. “As to your question, I’m pretty sure I should take a shower.”

“I’m pretty sure all your clothes are in as bad of shape or worse than what you’re wearing now.”

“I’m well aware. I’ll figure something out.”

“You can always ask Isabela to take you out shopping. You know how much she loves doing that.”

“Bite your tongue Varric. I fell for her trap once already, I don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon. She’s turned shopping into a sport.” She jabbed her finger at him. “And don’t you dare say anything to her about me needing clothes. I’ve got better things to do.”

“You know that she probably already knows.”

“Can we not have this conversation right now? Or ever? Discussing my wardrobe is pretty low on my list of priorities. I have a spare suit still at the office. Those bastards didn’t burn down everything of mine.”

With that she stuff her garbage in the paper bag and tossed it in Varric’s trash bin before standing up. Picking up her file, she fought the urge to clutch it to her chest and instead stuffed it into her bag that had somehow managed to survive everything.

“If I come up with any hard evidence I’ll let you know,” she said to Aveline before turning to Sebastian. “I’ll need to make that quick stop at my office before we head back to your place. I assume that I have shower privileges.”

Sebastian didn’t smile at her attempt at levity. If anything his frown only deepened as he gave her a slow nod. Éowyn sighed as she shouldered her bag. If this was going to be a thing she just might have to punch him.

“Let’s go then.”

~~~

It was late afternoon by the time they made it back to Hightown. He’d barely said more than a handful of words to her since they left Varric’s office and it was beginning to get on her nerves. He was still pissed that she was going to pursue the investigation. That was his right, she supposed, but it was damned annoying. He _knew_ that her job could be dangerous; it was just a fact of life. If he couldn’t accept that…

Sunlight filtered through the trees lining the street leading up to his townhome. She had garnered several startled looks the further they came from Lowtown and more the further they entered Hightown. One Chantry sister they had passed had audibly gasped, a horrified look crossing her face. Éowyn couldn’t help the short bark of laughter that escaped her. For Maker’s sake, it wasn’t like she was covered in blood and gore. What was a little ash and soot compared to that?

She waited just behind Sebastian, her eyes tracking the street. Nothing looked out of place. To anyone else it just appeared to be a normal sunny if hot summer Kirkwall day. A trio of children play tag in the small park across from them, their nanny fanning herself as she sat on a park bench. The children, two girls and a boy looked so carefree and happy and a small dark part of her envied their innocence even as she smile at them. She prayed that they were able to stay innocent for years to come. Children deserved that.

Sebastian finally opened the door and she followed him in. A wave a exhaustion washed over her, both emotional and physical but leaning more emotional than physical. Ever since she had come to the realization in Varric’s office that a fixer was involved she couldn’t help but see things hiding in the shadows. She may have been able to joke around with her friends while standing firm on her decision to continue pushing forward with the case but she couldn’t lie to herself.

She was scared.

Sighing, she dropped her bag with the files and the other bag holding her only other set of clothes. What she wanted was to not think about all of this for a couple of hours. Hell, she’d even take one hour but she knew she didn’t have it. Deep in her gut she could feel that they were running out of time.

Sebastian moved away from her without saying anything, his posture tense. Irritation rose within her the longer he stayed silent.

“There’s no use being pissed at me, you know. You hired me for my skills, because you knew that I would do my damndest to get the job done. Well, here I am, like it or not, doing my job. What is your problem?”

He spun around and glared at her. Even in the dim light of the room she could see the anger in his eyes. They seemed to blaze with light, burning a bright blue. Why was he acting like this?

“My problem? You want to know what my problem is? I told you what it is. I want you to drop this. It’s too dangerous.”

“And I told you that it’s too late for that. Johane won’t stop. And even if she did, the fixer she hired won’t just on a matter of principle. No, I need to finish this.”

“Even if it costs you your life?” he demanded.

“I’m going to try very hard for that not to happen. I don’t have a death wish despite what others may think, but I do uphold my obligations.”

“And damn the consequences?”

“If needs be, yes.”

“This is intolerable.”

“So you’ve said.” Éowyn forced herself to take a deep breath, attempting to keep her temper under control. It wouldn’t do either of them any good for her to lose it because they would be just back here in the same argument only with more feelings hurt and hearts bruised.

“Look, I realize that you’re scared something will happen to me-.”

“You’re damned right I am. I dragged you into this. I cannot let you get hurt because of me.”

His words rang in her head, reminding her of the thoughts that had overtaken her a week ago when he’d been shot and she’d made the decision to shut him out to keep him safe. How she didn’t want him to get hurt because of what she did, what she was. The irony of the situation made her laugh.

“This is not a laughing matter, Éowyn.”

“Oh, but it is. Don’t you realize that you’re throwing the same argument at me that I did not twenty-four hours ago? I tried to push you out because I didn’t want you to get sucked into my hellhole of a life and get hurt and now you’re doing the exact same thing.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yes it is and you damned well know it.” The fire went out of her with the realization, only to be replaced with sadness. What a pair they made. “I tried to shut you out but I couldn’t. You had already wormed your way in and took root. I couldn’t get rid of you now even if I wanted to and I think the same goes for you.”

“I don’t want to get rid of you, Éowyn. It would tear my heart out if I tried. I just don’t want you working on this case anymore. I know I shouldn’t ask, that I don’t have the right, but I am.” He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. He bowed his head until their foreheads touched. Éowyn closed her eyes and sighed. She breathed in the clean scent of him and started to lean in when she caught a whiff of herself.

“Andraste’s ass I stink. How can you stand to be near me?”

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb brushing over her skin before he dropped a brief kiss on her lips. “I’m finding that I’m willing to tolerate quite a bit if it means that you stay in my life.”

“Tolerate? I feel like I should be offended by that.”

“Accept then. Is that better?”

“Some. I guess.” Her words would have sounded petulant if not for the smile on her lips.

“Then let me rephrase. I accept and embrace you wholly. Warts and all.”

“Well then. That is better,” she said as her breath caught in her chest. The stink of sweat and ash assaulted her nostrils again, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. “We can discuss this more after I’ve showered. I’d really like to not smell like ash anymore.”

“Would you like me to join you?” he asked as his hands started to move up her arms, a smile curving his bow-shaped lips. Before he could do much more she stepped out of his embrace, warding him off with one hand.

“Oh no, pal. I’ve got your number. Shower sex is not on the table tonight.”

“Tomorrow then?.”

“You’re incorrigible. I might be-.” Éowyn paused. Now that they had talked it out and tempers were smoothed she was able to take in her surroundings. Her offhand thought about the room being dim came back to her. With the late afternoon sun, its light should be spilling into the living room but it was blocked out by drawn curtains. Curtains she had been damn sure were open when they had left the house earlier that day.

She had only taken one step forward before the hair on the back of her neck rose. Straining her ears, she tried to get a better sense of the room. As she took another step she started to reach for her weapon when she saw something lunge at her from the corner of her eye. She’d had just enough advanced notice that the blow that had been aimed for the back of her head landed on her ear instead. Good news was that she wasn’t knocked out, bad news was that her head felt like it had been tossed into the washer set on the spin cycle.

Swinging wildly she struck back at her attacker but met nothing but air. She sensed more than saw him coming at her again and just barely managed to duck his next punch. Popping back up she took aim again, this time connecting with her attacker’s throat. Behind her she could hear grunting and a sudden crash as bodies fell onto the furniture. The moment’s distraction was what took her. Before she could take another swing at her attacker, someone came up from behind her and placed their hand over her mouth. She barely had time to fight against it before the sickly-sweet smell of chloroform entered her mouth and nose.

Panicked, she fought against him. While she knew that chloroform wouldn’t knock her out right away, if she wasn’t able to get out of the hold soon she’d be incapacitated enough to where it wouldn’t matter. If he pressed on her mouth too hard with the cloth she’d suffocate long before the chloroform managed to knock her out.

She clawed at his arm as she slammed her foot down on his instep. The man grunted in pain but didn’t loosen his grip. Trying a different tactic she jabbed her elbow back sharply, aiming for his solar plexus. This time she managed to dislodge his grip as the air rushed out of his lungs. Her vision blurred even as she gasped for fresh air. They must have used a strong mixture as her head was throbbing and the room was slightly spinning.

She tried to reorient herself to take on her attacker when something slammed into the back of her head. Lights burst in her vision as she was brought to her knees, her hands catching her just enough to prevent her face from smashing into the floor. Just as she was trying to stand a boot connected with her ribs and she was sent sprawling. Her already tender head bounced against the hardwood floor and she was dazed just enough that she wasn’t able to fight off her attacker as he pulled her wrists behind her, binding them tightly. She kicked back against him, landing a hit on his shin. Yelling in pain, he slammed her head against the floor, putting a knee into the small of her back.

Dimly she could hear her name being shouted but it was hard to concentrate. Blood spilled from her mouth as her vision swam, making her see double, triple. She could hear voices, muffled and angry but couldn’t make out the words. The pressure on her back lifted as the knee was removed. Éowyn kicked out again but it was a weak effort. She was about to try a third time when a rough hand grabbed her arm and she felt a sharp prick go through her skin. The last thing she heard before she passed out was Sebastian yelling her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun, dun, dun! And we're getting closer to solving the mystery.
> 
> Thanks so much to all of you who've stuck with me and for the kudos and comments. Ya'll warm this girl's heart. <3


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there's a bit of gun violence in this chapter as well as a passing reference to child abuse.

A heavy fog surrounded her. She could hear voices, muffled and indistinct, as if they were speaking through water. Her body jolted as the floor moved underneath her. She could hear the rumble of an engine and realized that they were in a vehicle of some sort. An unwitting groan escaped her as her head hit the floor when the vehicle rolled over a bump. The voices stopped and she both heard and felt footsteps approaching. Someone roughly grabbed her arm and she could only manage a slurred protest before she felt a sharp poke before her world went dark again.

Consciousness came back again slowly. Something was ringing in the distance. High-pitched and yet muffled and very, very persistent. It took her a moment to realize that the ringing was in her ears. Éowyn started to shake her head and immediately regretted it as she felt her brain slosh around within her skull. Nausea rushed through her and bile ran up her throat. Something filled her mouth, coppery and thick. Spitting it out she heard it hit the floor, landing on something hard. Concrete perhaps? The chill of the floor on her bare feet suggested as much.

Cracking an eye open she tentatively lifted her head and immediately regretted it as the spinning in her head grew worse. She closed her eyes again and took slow breaths in and out. The ringing in her ears began to subside and she tried to listen to the room, to get a sense of where she was. Her arms were tied behind her; she could feel the bite of thin rope into her wrists and the slick of blood dripping down her fingers.

There was a rhythmic dripping sound. Water falling on stone? The air smelled musty and damp. Were they in a basement? No, it sounded larger than that. A warehouse? Maybe not that big. She just couldn’t tell.

She heard a low groan nearby. Risking pain again, Éowyn opened her eyes. The room was dim, dimmer than she had initially thought, but enough to where she could see. Though her eyes were still bleary she could still make out Sebastian’s body sitting slumped in a chair, bound to it just as she was. Blood smeared down his face and neck, staining the linen shirt he wore. The left side of his face was bruised, the eye partially swollen. Her gut clenched at the sight. Even though she knew it wasn’t truly her fault that he was in this position she couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“Seb, Sebastian.” Her throat felt raw, like someone had scraped it with a cheese grater. “Sebastian, can you hear me?”

His head lolled to the side and he groaned again. The groan gave her hope that he was okay but the fact they were bound to chairs in an unknown location made her doubt how long that would last.

“Sebastian,” she said again, slightly louder. “Sebastian, wake up.”

“Éowyn?”

“Yes, it’s me,” she said, jerking futily on her arms. “Can you move?”

Sebastian jerked his arms to no effect. “No. Where are we?”

“Where you are is not important, Mr Vael. Your bigger concern is how long you will be here. You and your, how shall I put it, friend I guess is the most polite term are my guests here.”

“I think whore is the term you’re looking for Allure. She’s an embarrassment to the Amell’s good name. An influence of her father’s mongrel blood I’m sure. Leandra had to have lost her mind when she ran away with him.”

Light blazed in the room, blinding her. Wincing, she tried to look behind the light and could only make out a dark shadow but she didn’t need light to know who belonged to the second voice. She’d had the dubious pleasure of meeting Johane Harimann a couple of times in the past but that was more than enough to recognize the poisonous voice.

“Now, now Johane, there’s no need for such name calling. You’ll have to refrain from that kind of language once you take your place in Starkhaven society.”

“And when will that be? It’s been nearly four years since I hired you and I’m still stuck here in this cesspool of a city.”

The other voice made a disapproving noise in her throat. There was a flare of a match and then the acrid smell of cigarette smoke filled the room. Looking around Éowyn was finally able to tell that they were in some type of unfinished basement with dark hallways or tunnels leading out. If she didn’t know better she’d say they were in a cave.

“Johane, Johane, so impatient,” the woman scolded. “I told you before we started down this path that it would take time and that you needed to practice patience. A talent I fear you are somewhat lacking in as of late.”

“Well I _am_ impatient, dammit. We wouldn’t be here if you’d had this bastard killed along with the rest of his family. You promised me power and position and I’m no closer now than I was three years ago.”

“As I told you then, killing the young Mr Vael here at the time would have raised too much suspicion. There was already enough attention with the home invasion and killings. Honestly Johane, you hired me for a reason. I am very good at my job and I know what should be done and when it should be done. If I had sanctioned his killing as well it would have raised more attention than we wanted.”

“A decision I did not agree with and look where we are now! You said he would stay in the Chantry and wouldn’t be a problem. The exact opposite has happened and now my family has been exposed because he hired this trollop.”

“You know, Johane,” Éowyn coughed and spat out another blood tinged wad of spit onto the floor. “normally I don’t mind being called names, comes with the business, but I’m about ready to take exception.”

“You,” Johane growled, stepping forward into the light. Her face was splotchy red with anger and there was a look in her eyes that told Éowyn that the woman might not be entirely sane. “You are a disgrace to the Amell name.”

“Good thing I don’t consider myself an Amell then if it means becoming like people like you. I’ll take my _mongrel_ status any day over inbred morons.”

Johane let out a screech and lashed out, her palm landing on Éowyn’s cheek. The woman was stronger than she looked and knew where to hit; landing a strike on her already bruised and bloodied cheek, her nails scraping down the skin. Éowyn winced as the older woman took a layer of skin with her but otherwise didn’t respond.

“Johane, control yourself. I’ve warned you about this before.” The woman’s voice was sharp with a coolness to it that was almost inhuman. People like Johane she could handle, their natures weren’t that hard to understand, but people like this fixer, Allure she thought Johane had called her, people like her were not ones you wanted to make an enemy of.

The woman finally stepped into the light and whatever Éowyn had been expecting it wasn’t what she saw. She wasn’t a so-called bombshell but neither was she unassuming. She looked like she could be your best friend or you sister. The tailor at your local dress shop or the lone woman sitting at the bar idly stirring her drink while she waited for her party. The woman had the look that she could tailor herself to whatever you needed. She wore a smile that was both welcoming and poisonous at the same time and in that moment Éowyn didn’t doubt that if Johane became too much trouble her body would be found floating in the harbor. If it was found at all.

“I’ll control myself when you give me what you promised.”

“You changed the agreement when you took the initiative to send those thugs your husband found on the wharf after Mr Vael and Miss Hawke here. I was hesitant to take you on as a client to begin with but at the time it suited my purposes to have the Vael family taken out of power. I’m beginning to wonder if I chose the wrong horse to back.” She glided over to Sebastian, grasping his jaw with her hand and lifted his head up, contemplating. “What do you say Mr Vael? Should I have picked you to take up the reigns of Vael Consolidated? Despite your commitment to the Chantry at the time you do have a stronger claim to the business than your cousin.”

“I want nothing from you.”

“Is that so?” She looked deeply into his eyes, tilting her head to the side. “Then why did you hire Miss Hawke over here? Simply to get justice for your family? I would have thought you would have been satisfied when Jonas Flint and his ilk were, what’s the saying, ah yes, taken out of the equation. The murderers were found and though they weren’t necessarily brought to justice in a court of law, justice was still served, though be it an older form.

“Don’t you want to take your father’s, your _grandfather’s_ place as head of the company?” she asked, stroking her fingers down his face, her lips hovering over his lips. “Think of all those employees who are going to suffer under Goran’s so-called leadership. Your dear Uncle Gideon can only do so much to curb his impulses and the poor man is getting on in years. I think it will be only a matter of time before someone with a firmer constitution will swoop in and take over.” She gazed into his eyes for several moments before sighing, apparently disappointed in what she saw.  Letting go of Sebastian’s chin, she stepped back and absently wiped the blood off her hands with a handkerchief she pulled from her pocket. “Think on it. Under Goran’s leadership the company’s value will drop, making it an attractive target for someone with the motivation and funds. I used to think that would be Mrs Harimann here but perhaps I was wrong.”

“You can’t do this. You _promised_ me Vael Consolidated. You told me that if I gave you money, if I did what you wanted, married my daughter off to that idiot that the business would be mine. It’s supposed to be mine.”

“Oh, you’ll find that I very much can do this. You’ve become a liability Johane. You and your family. My business doesn’t tolerate liabilities very well. As I said, your sloppiness is what got us here. Did you not realize that Miss Hawke here has connections to the guard? I dislike having a spotlight on my activities. Fortunately I’ve taken care of part of the problem.” Allure gestured to the darkness beyond the lights. Éowyn heard some scuffling and grunting and jerked back when two bodies were dropped unceremoniously in front of them. She recognized them as the two goons that had chased after them in the club. Both looked more than worse for wear as they knelt on the concrete floor.

“You two are a great disappointment but I suppose I should expect as much considering that you’re more used to breaking kneecaps of those who are delinquent on loans and other such activities.”

“Fuck you lady. You think you’re so much better than us.”

“Oh, dear man,” she laughed without humor. “I don’t think it, I know it.”

With that Allure raised a snub-nosed revolver and put a bullet in each of their heads. Blood and matter sprayed over Éowyn as their bodies fell to the ground. She jerked back reflexively but tied as she was to the chair there was no avoiding it. Looking down at her already ruined suit she could only sigh. In the background Johane screeched in rage but made no movement when Allure simply raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh my dear, I _am_ sorry for the mess but I needed to get my point across to Johane here.” Allure gave Éowyn that same curious head tilted that made her skin crawl. She stroked her fingers down Éowyn’s face, drawing a line through the blood of the two murdered men that had splattered on her. There was a thoughtful look on the woman’s face, followed by a sly smile that meant nothing good. “Perhaps I could use your services. You’re very capable. No one has gotten as close as you have. It seems prudent to have someone of your caliber on my payroll.”

“I’d rather eat shit from the gutters in Lowtown.”

“How colorful. I’ve researched you, you know. Oldest of three. Spent your childhood being dragged over near and far by your father. Fought in that nastiness down in Ferelden, nearly died during the retreat. Lost your sister to the mustard gas, what a horrible death that is, my sympathies.” She gave Éowyn a knowing look and Éowyn had the suspicion that this woman would use mustard gas on her enemies if given half the chance and reason to do so. Hells, she probably already had.

“Your mother and brother, well, you don’t seem to have the best relationship with them, do you? And then your money troubles.” Allure made a tsking sound. “I could help you with all of that. You’d never have to worry about bill collectors pounding on your door.”

“Why are you talking to her, Allure? Just kill her and be done with it. She’s trash, always will be despite her mother’s blood.”

Allure sighed, stepping away from Éowyn to turn to Johane. “You put too much stock in bloodlines Johane. That’s what got you in this mess to begin with. You married your husband thinking his money could raise your status. You should have done better research considering his predilections. Your son is a wastrel just like his father, and your daughter, oh my, there’s not much spine there at all, is there. Malleable yes, and given the right kind of coaching she could get Goran to marry her but I’m afraid that ship has sailed. You saw to that with your abuse.”

“I only did what needed to be done. The girl’s stupid as the day is long,” Johane said stiffly.

“It’s always the sledgehammer rather than the scalpel with you,” Allure sighed again. “As for her being stupid, oh my dear Johane, who do you think tipped off Mr Vael here that it wasn’t a simple home invasion that led to his family’s deaths.”

For several seconds Johane was silent, her mouth gaping in shock. Éowyn would have found it funny if not for their current situation.

“She wouldn’t dare. She knows better than to cross me.”

“Never trust a dog you’ve beaten too often, Johane. They will eventually bite you.”

Before she could continue a man in a suit stepped forward from the shadows and whispered in Allure’s ear. She listened intently and then nodded with a sigh. “It would seem that I have another pressing matter I need to deal with immediately. I’m sorry to leave you in this situation but surely you understand. Johane, I require your assistance.”

“You’re just going to leave? What about them?”

Allure glanced over at Éowyn and Sebastian. “They are quite secure. They won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Now, let’s go.”

“But-.”

“If you think that I’m going to leave you alone with them you are sorely mistaken. Things are in motion that you cannot understand and I will not allow you to interfere because of your impulsiveness. They won’t be left alone,” she said, gesturing to one of the men standing next to her. She turned then, walking away, her heels made sharp clicking noises on the concrete. Johane hesitated a moment. Her eyes burning with hatred at them. Éowyn had no doubt that if the woman thought she could get away with it she would kill them both right then and there. She glared back at her, daring her to try something. Not her best move seeing as she was still tied to the chair.

Now that some time had passed and her eyes had had the chance to adjust Éowyn was better able to see. They appeared to be in an unfinished basement. The concrete floor had been poured but the walls were exposed brick, the mortar between cracked and crumbling. It uncomfortably reminded her of a short story she’d read years ago about a man trapped up behind such a wall. A pipe extended from the opposite wall, water slowly dripping from it. Allure’s guard stood just to the side of an archway. He didn’t look like the chatty type but that wasn’t about to stop her.

“Is Allure really her name? Seems fake.”

The guard didn’t respond. He just stood there with his hands clasped in front of him.

“I mean, come on, seriously? It’s like something out of a bad crime novel. Villains giving themselves nicknames? Kind of cliche don’t you think?”

“Éowyn, what are you doing?”

“Shh, I’m trying to have a conversation with the nice gentleman.” Sebastian looked at her as if was crazy but didn’t say anything more. “And what’s your name? Let me guess, Henchman Number Three? Or is it Two? I’m guessing the fella who came with the message is Henchman Number One.”

He didn’t respond but Éowyn noticed a slight twitch in his jaw. Smirking, she blew loose hair out of her face and continued. “It must be frustrating, reduced to guard duty. I mean, I can’t imagine how boring this must be for you. You could be out doing whatever it is that Allure has her more trusted henchmen doing but instead you’re stuck in here babysitting us. Luckily I am a scintillating conversationalist.

“Back to the name thing. When she hires you, does she just erase your identity and give you a number? In some ways I can see how it would be easier. No need to remember pesky things like names. I wonder if she got the idea from the Divines. There have been, what is it, six or seven named Hortensia. Personally I find it a little tedious. I mean, what if you mix up Henchman Number Two and Number Four? I can’t imagine how embarrassing that would be. Maybe she has a little book with each of your pictures in it with your designation. I guess it would depend on the number of henchman she has.”

The man’s jaw tightened as she spoke and yet she persisted. Behind him she noticed a shadow creeping slowly along the wall. From its shape and size she could tell that it wasn’t Allure or Johane. A new player had just entered the game.

“Oh, I know. You must be one of the new guys. She is down three afterall. Their venture in Starkhaven didn’t end well for any of them. New guys always get stuck with the shittiest detail.”

“Do you ever shut up?” he finally said, uncrossing his arms and balling his hands into fists.

“Just trying to pass the time, my friend. I tend to bore easy, so it’s either this or a nap and in my current situation napping isn’t really a good choice.”

“I could make you take a nap.”

“I’m sure you could pal, but not before you take one yourself.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Éowyn gave him a wide smile, keeping her gaze on him as she watched the figure step into the light. It was Flora Harimann with what looked like a giant plumber's wrench in her hands.

“Say goodnight Gracie.”

“Wha-?” He was cut off as Flora smashed the wrench down onto his head. He stumbled, dropping to his knees. She brought the wrench down again and he sank onto the floor, blood pooling around his head. Flora dropped the wrench, her face blanched white and she stared at her hands as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just done.

“Flora,” Éowyn said. When the girl didn’t respond, she repeated the girl’s name, sharper this time. “Flora we don’t have much time before they come back. You’re timing is impeccable but I’m really hoping that you brought a knife or something with you because I’m not a big fan of being tied up against my will.”

“I, I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

Éowyn fought the urge to roll her eyes. It wouldn’t do to scare the girl more than she already was. She didn’t doubt that despite the fact that she had just bashed a man over the head with a wrench that she’d wilt at harsh language. “Check their pockets. One of them’s bound to have a knife or something on them.”

“You’re doing fine Flora, just fine.”

Flora flashed Sebastian a grateful look through teary brown eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. I never thought she’d go this far,” she sniffed as she searched the guard’s pockets. A minute passed before she finally pulled out a switchblade. She frowned at it, clearly unsure how to work it.

“You need to press the button on the side,” Éowyn told her. “No, turn it around unless you want to stab yourself.” Flora followed her instructions and jumped when the sharp blade flipped out. She scrambled forward, slipping on the spilled blood of one of the henchmen as she moved around to the back of the chair. Éowyn waited patiently as Flora sawed through the rope, wincing slightly when she nicked her wrist. Once free Éowyn stood up and began digging through pockets of the dead men. The two that Allure had summarily executed had nothing of use on them but the guard that Flora had taken down carried a pistol and a backup piece strapped to his ankle.

She heard Sebastian groan in relief as his arms were unbound. Looking up she saw him rub the soreness out of his wrists. Now that the fog had cleared her brain she could get a better look at him. Her heart clenched at the sight of his battered face but there was no mistaking the righteous fury in his eyes. They finally had proof that though Johane was the instigator behind his family’s murder, she wasn’t the architect. Éowyn briefly wondered just how Johane had managed to hire Allure’s services but quickly decided that it didn’t matter. Not now anyway.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian stepped forward, brushing her hair back before tracing his fingers down her cheek, careful not to touch the bruises.

“I should be asking you that question. You look like you’ve gone twelve rounds in the ring.”

“My face and ribs would agree with you but they drugged you.”

Éowyn shrugged. “It’s not the first time it’s happened. I’m more mad that I didn’t notice something was wrong in the house sooner,” she paused, checking both guns to ensure they were fully loaded. After a moment’s hesitation she handed the other gun to Sebastian. “Here. I have a feeling you’re going to need this.”

Sebastian looked down at the gun with mild distaste before taking it. “I was hoping that more violence wasn’t necessary.”

“Well, pray that you don’t need to use it. I’m hoping we can get out of here undetected but I’m thinking our odds are pretty low.” Éowyn looked over at Flora. The woman just stood there with her hands clenched together. She looked as if a strong breeze would knock her over as she bit down nervously on her lip. Her eyes flicked down to the bodies, then over to the darkened hallway, and then back to Éowyn and Sebastian like she couldn’t decide where she should look. Sighing, Éowyn hoped that the woman would be able to hold it together long enough for them to escape. She’d had enough moxie to come down here and help them, hopefully that moxie would last a bit longer.

“Are you going to be able to keep up?” she asked Flora, not wanting to assume anything at this point.

“I,” Flora swallowed heavily. “I think I can.”

“I need more than that Flora. If you can’t hold it together I’ll shut you in a closet until I can get the guard here.”

“Éowyn, you cannot be serious. You cannot leave her here, cannot leave her to the mercy of these monsters.”

“As long as she stayed quiet they shouldn’t find her.”

“No, no, I can do this. I _have_ to do this.It’s my penance for letting Mother go this far.”

“I doubt very much that there was anything you could do, Flora. Your mother is obsessed with power and she went looking in the darkest of corners for help in getting it. Honestly I think you’re lucky she didn’t suspect you of helping uncover her deeds. Allure or whatever her name is appears to have known. Why she just didn’t eliminate you is curious.”

“Éowyn, I don’t think right now is the time to be questioning the girl’s motives.”

“You’re wrong. Now is _exactly_ the time to question her motives. I prefer to know if I’m going to get stabbed in the back.”

Flora’s already pale face blanched even more. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly as she took a shaky breath. “I swear, I mean you no harm. All I wanted to do was help.”

“Cryptic anonymous notes isn’t exactly helping.”

“It was all I could do. You don’t understand. She watches me constantly or has someone else do it. I have no freedom, no life of my own beyond what she allows me. This, helping you, this is the only way I can get free.” Tears flooded her eyes as she tried to sniffle back the snot that was beginning to dribble down her face. Sebastian pulled out a handkerchief, where he’d been hiding that Éowyn had no clue, and offered it to Flora. She watched as he calmed the girl down with ease. He had a soft way with people that she envied. Éowyn knew that she was hard edges and bluntness; one of the few things she and Carver had in common. Unlike Johane Harimann though, she knew when a soft touch was needed. She also knew that her own capacity for delivering the soft touch was limited. Sebastian did what was needed with ease and care.

He had made her pancakes this morning. Remembering that was the final key to unlocking everything. She loved him. Gone were all her prevarications and hesitations. She loved him.

A lump grew in her throat. She must have made some sound for he looked up at her, a casual glance that turned to concern at whatever he read on her face. He placed a calming hand on Flora’s shoulder before stepping away.

“What’s wrong?”

Éowyn swallowed the lump in her throat and let go an unsteady breath. She felt slightly dizzy, unsure if it was from the leftover effects of the drugs they’d used to knock her out or from the emotions roiling through her. Was a dank basement filled with corpses really the place to be when she told him that she loved him for the first time?

“You made me pancakes.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed, confusion plain on his face. Flora looked up from Sebastian’s crumpled handkerchief, comprehension dawning on her face. It was funny how some could inuit something like an impending declaration of love whereas others were clueless.

“Yes,” he said slowly, clearly not sure where she was going with this.

“You made me pancakes. No one’s ever done that for me before. Not like that.”

“Éowyn, I’m not sure-.”

“I love you.” The words burst out of her, like she couldn’t keep them in any longer. It would seem that she was just fine with making declarations of love in a basement full of corpses.

“You love me because I made you pancakes,” he said with something like wonder washing over his face.

“Not just because of that, but yes.”

He stepped forward, cupping her face in both hands as he leaned down to kiss her. Pulling back, he rested his head against hers and let out a heavy breath. Éowyn reached up and covered one of his hands with hers, wishing that they could take the time to savor this moment.

“I love you too.”

“Good, because if you didn’t I’d have to kick your ass.” Sebastian just laughed and kissed her again. Pulling back from him, she sighed again even as she gave him a smile. “I know the timing on this wasn’t great but it was important. Now,” she said as she stepped back, sparing a quick glance at Flora before returning her gaze back to him. “Let’s go and stop a madwoman and her fixer before anyone else gets hurt.”

“Don’t you think you should put some shoes on first?”

Éowyn looked down, frowning at her bare feet. She had no clue what had happened to her shoes and a quick glance around the room told her that no replacements were handy.

“Can’t do much about that now. I’ll make do. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that declaration! Wasn't planning on that but it just sort of happened.
> 
> This one took me a bit longer than I had anticipated. Work picked up again but here you go! 
> 
> Thanks again to all of you wonderful people who are reading this story of mine and double thanks for all the kudos and comments. They truly make my day. :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the third act! It gets pretty violent here.
> 
> Fair warning: Johane Harimann is not a good person, much less a good mother and she says some pretty nasty things.

Éowyn grimaced as she stepped around the dead bodies and the blood pooling around them, trying to keep her bare feet out of as much of it as possible. Maker knew what else coated the floor and she honestly really didn’t want to know. The basement was old, old enough to probably have been built around the time Kirkwall was founded. She took the lead while Sebastian followed in the rear, keeping Flora inbetween them. What had initially seemed like a hallway turned out to be more of a tunnel. The brickwork gradually became less uniform and more decrepit. Éowyn feared that if she brushed to close to the walls that they would cave in around them. Just where in the hell were they?

“We’re under the manor,” Flora said when she asked her. “It’s the oldest part of the building. Used to be a wine cellar at one point until it got too run down to safely keep wine down here. There are also tunnels that were used for smuggling alcohol during the Chantry’s prohibition. That was back when my grandfather was head of the family.” There was a bitterness to her tone that indicated that she wished her grandfather was still around.

“Why wasn’t it maintained? Your mother doesn’t seem the type to let things like this slide.”

“By the time she married my father the family fortune was tied up in other ventures. No one besides Mother has the key and for the most part she’s the only one who comes down here.” Flora paused and Éowyn looked over her shoulder, giving the woman a questioning glance. “When I was a child she would lock me down here when she thought I wasn’t behaving like she wanted me too. I… I really don’t like being down here.”

“And yet you came down here and rescued us. That is really brave of you Flora. It takes strength to confront your fears.”

Éowyn caught the blush the spread across Flora’s cheeks at Sebastian’s words. Clearly the woman wasn’t used to receiving praise of any kind and it twisted her heart at the realization. Parents were supposed to support their children, not tear them down so they felt like nothing. Gritting her teeth she pressed forward, even more motivated now to get Johane behind bars.

Turning a corner Éowyn had to duck quickly as the ceiling had dropped several inches. As it was she got a faceful of cobwebs. Clawing the sticky strands off her face she prayed that she didn’t meet any of their makers. It wasn’t that she was afraid of spiders, she just preferred to have shoes on so she could grind them beneath her heel.

Bare lightbulbs lined the ceiling, occasionally flickering and sending the shadows dancing around them. Éowyn listened hard for any evidence of Allure or her men or Johane returning but there was nothing; all she could hear was the echo of their footsteps and the occasional skitter of mice.

“Why did they drag us all the way down here? Seems inefficient if they were just going to kill us.”

“The tunnels also lead to the Gallows. And the harbor,” Flora told her quietly. Éowyn swore under her breath for she had no doubt that these tunnels had been used for more than smuggling liquor. No matter where she turned, Kirkwall seemed more than willing to reveal new depths of evil. It would also seem that Flora was more privy to the going ons of her mother’s business than she would have guessed. Perhaps she could be convinced to testify against her mother and Allure? It was a long shot but still one worth pursuing. Once they escaped the tunnels that is.

“Do you suppose anyone is aware that we were taken?” Sebastian asked.

Éowyn paused slightly before answering. “I honestly don’t know. Neither of us were in a great mood when we left Varric’s office so they might hold off on making house calls. On the other hand Carver is just enough of an ass to ignore that. Also depends on how careful Allure’s men were when they took us. In short, your guess is as good as mine.”

“That’s not encouraging.”

“I know,” she said, trying not to let the worry eat at her. She had happiness at her fingertips. It would be a cruel joke for the Maker to snatch it away from her.

Following Flora’s directions, they finally came to a stair leading up. Through the dim lighting Éowyn could see a closed door at the top of the stairs. She wracked her brain to try to remember the layout of the Harimann estate but could only get a dim outline. Even if she had remembered it probably wouldn’t matter much as she’d only been in the front parlor and it’s adjoining rooms.

“Where does this lead?”

“The wine cellar. There’s another set of stairs that leads to the pantry and kitchen area.”

“Maker’s balls, they’re not making this easy, are they?” Too many corners and doors she thought. Too many places where they could get pinned down. “Are you sure there’s no other way out of here. Besides the tunnel to the harbor that is?”

“Not that I know of. When she left me down here it was only in that room you were in.”

Éowyn looked around. All the tunnels looked the same. She didn’t want to risk getting turned around or worse down here when Allure and her men could return at any moment. She didn't like the idea of going through the door blind but at least she knew where she would end up once she reached the ground level.

They climbed the first set of stairs quietly, listening for any sound. The door to the wine cellar opened smoothly, no squeaky hinges to alert others to their presence. A brief survey of the room showed that it was clear of any of Allure’s men. Apparently she’d been confident that her man downstairs would be able to watch over them. In her defense, they had been tied up and defenseless.

It was cleaner here, less dust and mice droppings but it still had that air of disuse. The path between the wine racks was swept clean, evidence of people passing through but the bottles on the racks themselves were coated in dust. Éowyn raised an eyebrow at that. It was curious considering the vices the Harimann men held.

“Mother disapproves of drinking,” Flora said simply.

Éowyn spied another set of stairs across the room from them. She moved to them, gesturing to the others to follow.

“Is there a backdoor out of the kitchen?”

“Yes, but it only leads to the garden, and that’s surrounded by ten foot walls.”

“Of course it is, why would the Maker make things easy for me,” she sighed, thinking that once everything was said and done she was going to have the biggest glass of wine ever and sit in Sebastian’s tub until she turned into a pruney mess with the water as hot as she could stand it. And bubbles. Lots of bubbles.

Holding the gun at her side, Éowyn cautiously climbed the stairs, keeping close to the wall in an attempt to keep her passage as quiet as possible. Sebastian and Flora followed at a slight distance. No light shown through the slight gap at the bottom of the door where it met the floor but that didn’t necessarily mean that there was no one waiting there. It would have been helpful to know how much time had passed since they had been kidnapped; Éowyn guessed that it was at least a couple of hours which would put it at late afternoon, early evening which hopefully meant a guard presence of some type on the streets due to after work traffic. Then again, who knew how many of the guard Allure had on her payroll. Despite Aveline’s efforts there was still a stain of corruption on the department. It was a slow and frustrating process to seek out a dirty guard but Aveline Vallen was nothing if not determined.

Éowyn stopped at the top of the stairs and pressed her ear to the door, listening intently. When she didn’t hear anything she tested the doorknob and was slightly surprised to find it unlocked. It would seem that Allure was very confident in the guard she had left behind to watch over them. Then again, they hadn’t counted on Flora Harimann intervening and throwing a wrench, quite literally, into the works.

The door opened silently, a small boon for which she was grateful. When she saw no one in the kitchen, she gestured for her companions to follow. Someone had left the lights on in the kitchen and it took her a minute for her eyes to adjust. Further in the house she could hear angry sounding voices. Johane Harimann wasn’t even bothering with keeping her voice down. The woman sounded unhinged or well on her way to be. Wanting power and position and being denied both couldn’t be easy. Éowyn wondered why she had fixated on the Vael family as a means to obtain what she wanted. Wouldn’t it have been easier to target someone closer to home, someone in Kirkwall? Perhaps there was more to the story that she knew.

And right now that didn’t matter. Right now she needed to get herself and the others out of the house. The only problem was that there people with guns between them and the exit.

“Is the exit to the garage nearby?”

“It’s on the other side of the house,” Flora whispered. “We have to go through the dining room and parlor.”

Éowyn silently cursed the bastard who designed the house. Rather than make the floor plans make sense they had decided to go with the Kirkwall aesthetic that she would never understand.

“I don’t suppose there are any servant’s passages still in use.”

“Not that I know of. Probably not.”

“Shit. Well, we’ll just have to be extra sneaky and hope that they’re too occupied with arguing to notice us escaping.” Taking a deep breath she moved silently through the kitchen, not liking the fact that she didn’t have much cover. There was a long island sitting in the middle of the room but the exits were on the wrong side of the room for it to be of any use to them. She edged up to the door and peeked around the corner quickly before drawing back. The dining area sat empty but she could hear the voices in the room beyond. Half empty plates and wine glasses sat on the enormous ironbark table. Annoyance burned through her when she saw the table. Ironbark trees were rare, bordering on endangered, and to see such an excess pissed her off.

Forcing herself to focus, Éowyn took another look into the room and spied another exit off to the left. The only problem was that they would have to walk by the open door of the room where the voices were coming from. All it would take was one wrong step and they were caught.

She was about to step into the room when a shadow filled the doorway across from them before a large body filled it. Back-lit as he was, she couldn’t make out who it was but it really didn’t matter. No one in this house was a friend of theirs. Whoever it was had probably been sent to check on them.

Flora bumped into her when she didn’t move and Éowyn was forced to push the girl back as she flattened herself against the wall, listening intently for footsteps. Heavy footfalls moved around in the room beyond but they didn’t near the archway. Instead they seemed to move back and forth. Éowyn risked another glance and saw none other than Brett Harimann perusing the dining table, picking bits of food off one plate or another.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Sebastian whispered, his voice in her ear. He had moved up closer, putting Flora behind both of them.

“It’s Brett Harimann.”

“My brother’s here?”

“Yes, now shut up.”

Éowyn looked down, checking the gun again to see how many bullets it had. She had checked when she had pilfered them from Allure’s men but too much was at stake for her to be unsure how many shots she had. There was no way of knowing how many people Allure had in the house so she had to make sure every shot counted.

Heavy footfalls approached the kitchen and Éowyn held her breath. If Brett entered the kitchen there was a slim chance that she could take him down without having a fire a shot. A slim chance. If she was lucky he’d be more focused on his apparently empty stomach to be aware of his surroundings.

His shadow poured through the open doorway. Éowyn could hear him smacking his lips as he chewed on whatever he had snatched from the dining room table. Just as he passed through the doorway Éowyn brought the butt of her gun down on his head. The man grunted as he stumbled forward. Éowyn darted forward and grabbed his arm to stop him before he crashed into the kitchen island. Sebastian grabbed his other arm and together they dragged him out of the way. When the man let out another groan Éowyn hit him over the head again, satisfied that he stopped moving after the second hit. Hopefully he’d remain unconscious until after they got out of the house. She wasn’t keen on leaving an enemy at their backs but there was no other option.

“Is he going to be okay?” Flora asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

“As long as he stays unconscious I’d say so. Now let’s go before anyone else comes.”

She moved quickly back to the doorway, trying to make as little noise as possible. A quick look told her that no one had entered the room while they had taken care of the guard but it was only a matter of time before someone noticed that he was missing.

“Follow me,” she whispered before moving into the room. Her shoeless feet made no noise as they crossed the hardwood floor but both Sebastian and Flora’s footsteps sounded like gunshots to her ears but in reality they were probably more like soft knocks that you had to be standing next to in order to hear them. She had just stepped into the dining room when the voices from the next room grew louder.

“I don’t care what it takes, get it done.”

“Must we have this conversation _again_? You hired my services because I’m the best at what I do. These things take time.”

“Exactly. I hired you. You work for me. You need to do what I _paid_ you to do.”

“You should be careful in how you speak to me, Johane.” It was probably Éowyn imagination but it felt like the temperature in the room dropped several degrees at Allure’s words. The floor creaked underneath them as they slowly crossed the room and she winced at each creak, praying that no one in the next room could hear them. She led toward the other side, keeping the huge ironbark table between them and the other room. Just in case.

“Perhaps you would be where you want to be if you were more patient. This latest episode of yours isn’t the first, and your husband and son aren’t helping matters any. You need to get them under control if you want Vael Consolidated.”

Johane snorted. “I’ve already limited their funds and you got them blacklisted from the more disreputable clubs. What more do you expect me to do?”

“Perhaps a grieving widow role would help your goals. With your husband’s spot on the board empty it would be easy for you to fill it. Oh don’t look so shocked, Johane. It wouldn’t be the first death in this venture of yours. You had your own father killed after all and you didn’t have a problem with that.”

Flora gasped behind her, clasping her hands over her mouth as Éowyn frowned at her. Tonight was certainly a night for revelations.

“But, he’s my husband.”

“A husband you claim not to love so I’m not sure what the problem is.”

They were about halfway across the room when one of Allure’s men passed in front of the doorway leading to the other room. Éowyn dropped to the floor but it was too late as he began shouting. Swearing, she moved under the table and shoved with her shoulder, trying to get the damned thing on its side to provide them with some cover. The ironbark table shifted maybe a couple of inches as the first bullets volleys over their heads. Sebastian crawled next to her and together they turned the table over on it’s side, spilling its fragile contents onto the floor. It would give them some time, the amount depending on the number of people and guns they faced. Flora squeezed herself against the table, her hands over her ears as she squeezed her eyes shut.

Shouting came from the other room; Johane’s shrill screams nearly overpowering Allure’s sharp orders to her men. Éowyn swore as more shots were fired, several hitting the ironbark table. None of them pierced the wood but they definitely made an impact.

She popped up and quickly sighted one of the shooters and fired off two shots, both hitting their mark. His scream echoed throughout the room as he fell to the ground. To her surprise and dismay, Sebastian copied her action, dropping another goon. Several more shots were fired before Allure’s voice yelled over them, ordering the rest of her men to stop shooting. The brief silence that fell was deafening. When Allure spoke again it took everything she had not to fire blindly over the edge of the table and hope she hit something.

“Well, well, well. Aren’t we the clever little thing. I was assured that you had been properly search for any lockpicks or sharp objects. I’m impressed.”

“You’d be surprised what a person is capable of when properly motivated,” Éowyn told her, listening intently to determine if any of her goons were trying to stealth their way into the dining room. She heard nothing but then didn’t mean that they weren’t going to try something.

“Oh, I am very familiar with that concept. I’ve applied it myself a number of times.” A pause. “I’m assuming that my man down there is incapacitated in one way or another?”

Éowyn snorted softly. “You could say that.”

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take the deal I offered you? I’m willing to overlook this little incident. If anything, it proves your resilience if not stubbornness.”

“I’m going to have to pass on your offer. I rather like my soul where it is.”

Allure’s sigh was heavy, resigned, as if she had expected as much. “Pity. I think we would have worked well together.”

“Now will you kill them? I really need them dead.” Johane’s voice managed to get shriller, bordering on manic.

Allure emitted a heavy sigh. Éowyn imagined that if she were to look over the edge of the table she would see the woman pressing her hand to her head as if she was getting a headache. She leaned against the table, holding her breath as she waited for Allure’s response. When it came it was not what she expected.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no? You need to do what I hired you to do.”

“This venture is a loss for me, Johane. I see no point in continuing. If you want them dead I suggest that you do it yourself. Time to get some of that blood on your lily-white hands.”

Johane began to rage, screaming at the woman who could make people disappear as if they had never existed. Éowyn took the opportunity to peak over the table, ducking down quickly when the last goon standing fired at her. In her brief look she spied Johane and Allure standing just behind the goon, with Allure more off to the side but Johane standing square in the doorway. The woman really had no sense of self-preservation when she was angry. Or perhaps it was arrogance. Éowyn was disinclined to care at the moment as it served her purposes.

Éowyn fired one shot blindly over the table, hoping to get the goon to duck out of the way. She quickly popped back up and aimed at the woman who had caused so much misery for Sebastian. Johane lept forward just as she shot, the older woman struggling with Allure for the gun. Éowyn fired again, this time managing to clip Allure in the arm. The fixer grunted as the bullet grazed her and then barked at her last goon to help her. The man leapt to his feet to come to the aide of his mistress, pulling Johane Harimann off her before rushing Allure out of the house.

Éowyn saw the shock and rage on Johane’s face as she watched Allure abandon her. Johane spied her standing behind the table and brought up the gun she had wrangled out of Allure’s hands. Screaming, she marched forward, firing the gun until it clicked empty. Sebastian had pulled her down, holding her in his arms as Johane fired wildly. Flora huddled next to them, her tears dried on her face and replaced with a blank shock that Éowyn recognized all too well.

Johane continued to scream obscenities even after she ran out of bullets. In the silence that followed, Éowyn stood up, aiming her nearly full gun at Johane. She wouldn’t put it past the woman to snatch up the gun from one of the bodies lying on the floor, she was that far gone.

“It’s over Johane.”

“No! I refuse for it to be over. I was promised Vael Consolidated! I was promised power and position and that bitch betrayed me. And you. You have ruined everything. Both of you.”

“Don’t move, unless you want a bullet in your leg. I’m more than justified in doing it too. Trust me.”

“You ignorant mongrel whore. How dare you speak to me like that! You think this will stop me. I will end you.”

“Look around Johane. Your patron has abandoned you, and don’t think that burns me because I was hoping I could bring the both of you in, but I’ll have to settle for just you. You have no power here. It’s over.”

“Prison is too good for her.”

Éowyn looked over and saw that Sebastian had stood up and was training his gun on Johane’s chest. He didn’t shake at all. In fact he was eerily calm. Too calm.

“Sebastian don’t. She’ll pay for her crimes. I promise.”

“You can’t guarantee that, Éowyn. No one can. She’ll get a top-drawer lawyer and they’ll whittle down the charges until she spends a year, maybe two in prison. No. I won’t allow that to happen.”

Éowyn lowered her gun and stepped over to Sebastian, placing her hand on his arm. “No, this isn’t you. You kill her and it will change you forever. You’ll never be the person you were before you pulled the trigger. I don’t want to lose that person.”

Now his hands shook slightly though he kept the gun aimed at Johane. Johane to her credit didn’t move. She stared Sebastian down, her chin jutting out defiantly.

“You’re not a murderer, Sebastian. Not in cold blood.”

Seconds ticked by that felt like hours. Éowyn saw his finger tighten on the trigger and feared the worst, feared that she hadn’t been able to get to him. She couldn’t physically stop him, not with only five feet separating them and Johane, so she only had her words and they were failing.

“Sebastian. Please.”

For one terrifying moment she thought she had lost and then he closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping as he lowered the gun.

“You’re right. I can’t.”

“But I can.”

Éowyn whipped around to find Flora standing next to one of the dead guards, his gun in her hands.

“Flora, no.”

“I won’t live like this anymore. I won’t let you hurt me anymore.”

“You ungrateful little cunt. I gave you everything. Everything! But you are just too stupid to realize it. All you had to do was spread your legs for that idiot Goran and let him plant his seed but you couldn’t even do that. I should have drowned you as a baby.”

“Yes, you should have. You are no mother to me. You treated me like I was nothing. Like I was just a thing for you to use. No more. I won’t go back to being your plaything. I won’t.”

Before Éowyn could move Flora fired. Johane’s body jerked as each bullet slammed into her body. Blood sprayed down her dress as one bullet caught her in the neck. Flora marched forward toward her mother, firing until the gun was empty. Smoke curled over the barrel as she stood over the body. The girl’s face was blank, as if she had purged all emotion with each bullet she had fired. She wasn’t even breathing hard but tears were pouring down her cheeks again.

Éowyn stepped up to her and carefully took the gun from her hand and set it on the ground. Flora turned her head toward her just as red and blue lights began flashing through the windows. Her face had taken a gray undertone and her pupils were blown wide with shock.

“I couldn’t do it anymore, Miss Hawke. I just couldn’t.”

“I know, Flora. I know. It’s over now.”

“Is it really?”

Éowyn hesitated for a brief moment because she knew that the horrors of what Flora endured would never truly leave her. “This part is. We’ll help you get through the next part.”

She looked over and saw Sebastian staring down at Johane’s body. The woman was still gasping, blood coming out of her mouth in a red foam. He stood silently over her, watching as the last breaths of life left her body. He hadn’t killed her but nor had he done anything to save her. Éowyn prayed that he wouldn’t come to regret that.

Flora sagged against her as she put her arm around her waist and started to walk her away from the bloody scene. They had just entered the front room when the door burst open and three guardsmen came in with guns drawn. When they saw Éowyn standing with Flora, they lowered their weapons but stayed on alert, eyes canvassing the room.

“I’m Éowyn Hawke. This is Flora Harimann. She could use a medic. There’s, uh, a bit of a mess back there.”

~~~

Éowyn sat on the bumper of an ambulance, a rough blanket thrown around her shoulders. Sebastian sat next to her, his arm around her, holding her close. It was hard to believe that barely twenty-four hours ago she’d thought that she had pushed this man out of her life. Instead he was even more firmly embedded in it and she found that she liked it that way.

Flora Harimann had been taken away in one of the other ambulances to be treated for shock but not before she thanked Éowyn profusely for everything that she had done. Éowyn took the girl’s thanks quietly, knowing that she hadn’t really done anything to help the girl, but if it made her feel better she’d accept it.

“A bit of a mess? Seriously, Hawke? Only you would describe that scene as a bit of a mess.”

Éowyn shrugged, not sure what she could say at that point. “Was I lying?”

Aveline sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “No Hawke, you weren’t lying. Holy Andraste, how do you always get mixed up in things like this?”

“Luck?”

“I can’t decide if it’s good luck or bad.”

“Neither can I.”

“How much longer do you need us to be here, Guard-Captain? It’s been a long day.”

“And a busy one it would seem,” Aveline said, giving Sebastian a long look before turning back to Éowyn. “Look Hawke, you know you’re going to have to come in and give a statement. There’s no getting around that.”

“Does it have to be tonight?”

“The quicker we get a statement the quicker we can get information out there about this fixer Allure.”

“There’s not much to tell but I’ll give you what I can. Can I at least get a cup of coffee? And maybe somewhere more comfortable to sit than the back of an ambulance? My ass is sore.”

Aveline shook her head and laughed. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

“Good. Because I have a date with a bathtub and I don’t want to miss it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! What a ride. Thanks yet again to all you lovely people who've stuck with this story since I started writing it, oh Maker, three years ago. And welcome to those who've just come in! Thank you all for reading and for your kudos and comments. 
> 
> And don't worry. There will be an epilogue. :)


	23. Epilogue

Éowyn stood on the balcony overlooking the Minanter River. A light breeze curled around her as she watched sailboats float down the river. It was two days after the culmination of events at the Harimann estate and she was just starting to get the foul taste out of her mouth. As promised, Aveline hadn’t kept them long that night to take their statements but they’d had to go to the guardhouse the next day to give the statement again. This time to Kirkwall’s number two in charge Bran Cavin. 

She’d only had brief contact with the man before now and she found that a closer acquaintance did not improve her impression of the man. He was close to acting openly hostile at several points during the interview, somehow convinced that she was in league with Allure. All this despite statements from both Sebastian and Flora Harimann declaring the exact opposite. It took Aveline stepping up for him to finally back down, grudgingly so.

Éowyn seriously hoped that the surgery to remove the stick up his ass wasn’t too painful.

She had solved the case but she didn’t feel like she won. Johane Harimann had been brought to a form of justice she supposed, but the woman who had helped her had escaped relatively unscathed. A couple of witnesses claimed to have seen a woman matching Allure’s description speeding off in a car but that’s where the trail ended. Allure, and Éowyn doubted that was her real name, had disappeared into the ether and that made her nervous. She had made a dangerous enemy and Éowyn had no doubt that eventually the fixer would come after her.

Shaking off such thoughts she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The air was so much cleaner up here and green filled the hills and river valley around them. So much green, green that she hadn’t really seen since before the war. Coming to Starkhaven gave her a much needed break from the heaviness of Kirkwall.

A pair of arms wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace. Éowyn leaned back into Sebastian as he placed a soft kiss on her shoulder. She sighed again as she took in his scent. His mere presence soothed her more than she ever thought a person could. He had a way with him that helped to calm the demons that plagued her. After they had finished giving their statements he had insisted on leaving the city to go to his family’s estate in Starkhaven. Despite the memories she knew he had of the place she hadn’t protested. She’d been too tired after everything to protest. Upon arriving, after taking the world’s longest bath, she’d slept for almost ten hours. A dreamless sleep in which he held her for most of it. She’d only had a few nightmares since they’d come here but he had pulled her out and held her while the tears flowed.

He’d made her pancakes this morning, this time managing to get them to her while she was still in bed. He was spoiling her and she was letting him. Some part of him needed to do it and after everything that had happened who was she to deny him that?

They’d also made use of the bed for other activities than sleep. In the soft afternoon light they’d made love, bringing each other to newer heights that Éowyn hadn’t thought possible. They lazed away the day, basking in the milder climate and each other. 

“How are you?”

“Better, but isn’t that a question I should be asking you? I mean, we found out who was behind your family’s murders, though I know it’s probably not the outcome you were wanting.”

There was a slight pause before he answered. “Not as such no, but you were right. Killing Johane would have changed me for the worse. If I had pulled that trigger it would have been vengeance, not justice. That’s all that I wanted, was justice for my family. They did get it in a fashion, the Maker will judge her for her crimes.”

“Do you really think so? I’m not mocking your faith, I just have a different relationship with the Maker than you do.”

“I do. I just wish that Flora hadn’t paid the price she did for her freedom.”

Éowyn let her head fall back on his shoulder as she pulled his arms around her closer. “I know, I wish the same, but she was in a place where she saw no other option. I don’t know that I would have acted much differently if I were in her position. I may have my own issues with my mother but I never suffered the horrors that poor girl did.

“I wish there was something I could do for her. She has a long road ahead of her.”

“With people like you behind her I have no doubt that she’ll make it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as they watched the sun sink closer to the horizon. The light caught on the waves, making them sparkle like diamonds. She’d never been one much for the water but she did wonder what it would be like to be on one of those sailboats and feel the wind blow through her hair and the mist on her face. The last boat she’d been on was the one they’d taken from Ferelden and that had been one of the most uncomfortable voyages she’d ever been on. And that included the crowded army convoy to Ostagar.

“Carver’s going to kill me for just leaving like that without saying anything.”

“I sent a message to your mother’s house. If that doesn’t suffice, well, he has that stick up his arse to keep him company until we get back.”

Éowyn burst out laughing and turned in his arms so that she was facing him. She raised herself up on her toes and kissed him, her lips lingering on his. His hands slid lower and cupped her ass to pull her flush against him. Her body warmed and went pliant against his as the kiss deepened. Her lips curved as she felt him tug on the belt to the robe she wore.

“Careful. This is one of the few pieces of intact clothing I have.”

Sebastian leaned forward, kissing a line down her neck before nipping at the juncture where it met her shoulder. Éowyn shivered at the contact and tilted her head back to give him better access.

“I can have another delivered along with the rest of the clothes we ordered.”

“What’s this we stuff? You were the one who did all the ordering. How did you get my size anyway?”

Sebastian chuckled as he raised his head. His hands parted her robe, his fingers dancing along her skin.

“Ah,  _ mo chridhe _ , I am  _ very _ familiar with your measurements. I’ve made an extensive study,” he said as his fingers glided up her waist, settling just underneath her breasts. His thumbs brushed over the delicate skin, teasing her with soft strokes.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“You like it when I’m incorrigible,” he said as his thumbs grazed over her nipples. A delicious curl of warmth rose within her as his hands continued to roam. Smiling, Éowyn skimmed her hands up his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his warm skin under her fingers. She gently pushed him back into the room, her hand trailing down his arm to clasp his hand. With a light tug she pulled him with her toward the bed.

She stopped at the edge of the bed and reached for the drawstring of his pyjama pants. As she gazed silently into his eyes she slowly pulled on the fabric, feeling it pop slightly when it came free. His breath hitched as she trailed a single finger along the waistline before sliding it between the fabric and his skin. That curl of warmth within her grew into a flame as the pants pooled around his feet and his erection sprang free. Her lips tilted as her fingers ghosted up the shaft, her thumb circling the tip. He let out a soft growl just as she stepped back and sat on the bed, scooting back as he followed her down onto the bed.

He hovered above her, brushing her hair back before leaning down to kiss her. His hand slid down her body and delved into her folds, already slick with her desire. Éowyn arched into his hand, letting loose a soft moan.

“You’re a miracle, you know that yes?” he said as he moved his fingers against her clit, taking in her gasps of pleasure with his mouth. “Watching you fall apart in my arms is one of the greatest pleasures I’ve ever experienced. Can you climb for me, Éowyn? Come for me?”

“That depends on what you can do with those fingers,” she said between gasps. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss. When he started to move down her jaw, she gripped his hair tight to keep him in place, wanting his lips on hers. She caught his lower lip between her teeth just as he slid a finger inside her and curled it up, pressing against that most tender spot. A cry burst from her lips as her muscles clenched around his fingers.

“There it is. There you go. Keep climbing for me  _ mo chridhe _ .” He shifted, removing his fingers but before she could protest he was already sliding into her, his cock hot and hard. His hand gripped her leg and pulled it up around his hip as he began to move, sliding in and out of her oh so slowly. Soft gasps and moans filled the room as they moved together, fingers tangling with each other, lips moving over skin. The fading sun painted the room with a rose-hued glow that only added to the light building within her. Together they climbed, their pace slowly increasing until their muscles were quivering for release. Her orgasm crashed into her with surprising force as she shouted his name. She tightened her arms and legs around him as he followed, spilling himself into her. 

They lay entwined like that for what seemed like forever until her muscles gave way and her limbs sagged onto the bed, loose and warm in the afterglow of their love making. Sebastian’s head was tucked into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against the soft skin there. He slowly worked his way up her throat to her mouth, capturing her lips for one more lingering kiss before he pulled out of her. 

Éowyn knew that she should get up and clean herself off but she was too sated and limp to want to move. Instead she moved with Sebastian when he rolled off her and gathered her close. She lay her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His hand idly stroked her bare arm as he sighed happily. Sleep was just sneaking up on her when he said something that she didn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” she asked sleepily.

He paused long enough for her to worry. Lifting her head up she looked at him. His blue eyes raked over her face, as if he was trying to memorize every curve of it. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.

“Sebastian?”

“I love you. I just love you.”

Éowyn’s brow furrowed. There was just enough of a pause in his voice that she could have sworn he was going to say something else but changed his mind at the last moment. His hand came up and cupped her cheek as he leaned up and kissed her softly.

“I love you too,” she said as they parted. “It’s more than that though. You make me happy. Happier than I feel like I have any right to be.”

“Éowyn, if anyone has a right to be happy, it’s you. I would give you the world if I could.”

“I don’t want the world, Sebastian. I just want you.”

“Well, you have me. For as long as you want me.”

Éowyn turned her head and kissed his palm. “Same here.” She lay back down on his chest, sighing happily. “Part of me wishes that we could stay here forever.”

There was that brief moment of silence again before he spoke. “We could you know. Stay here I mean.”

“We could,” she agreed. “But I think we both know that we can’t. I can’t just leave Kirkwall. Not now anyway.”

“I know,” he said. “You wouldn’t be you if you just walked away from it all. No one would blame you, you know, if you did, but I think I know you well enough that you’d come to hate yourself if you just left.”

“You know me that well, do you?”

“I like to think I do. Or getting there anyway. Only time will tell.”

Éowyn pressed a kiss to his chest and snuggled into him. “Yes, time will tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-da! See I can write lovely fluffy stuff. I figured these two deserved it after the events of the last chapter. Just want these two crazy kids to be happy. I really do. Even if I do put them up it trees and occasionally throw rocks at them.
> 
> I can't thank you guys enough for sticking with me. Thanks for your kudos and comments, and bookmarks even! All is much appreciated. Almost as much as pie. ;)
> 
> And never fear, this is not the end. I have more plans for Éowyn and Sebastian. Stay tuned!
> 
> Playlist for City of Chains: https://open.spotify.com/user/scahill42/playlist/54kq5KPoFnnuukpVYORg1Y


End file.
